The Girl
by SnowyNeko
Summary: She was dropped into the Phantom Troupe's hands. Who she was, where she came from, not even she knew. She was blank. Chrollo didn't care about her past, though. What he was interested in was her future. Her potential. And although she had little else, she had a lot of potential.
1. Chapter 1

Hi guys! Welcome to me new story! Some of you might be wondering why I'm uploading this so closely with my story Edaline, and to that I'm going to admit that I dropped that story. Bleh, it's disgusting just to say! _Dropped_. Anyway, my passion for that story just kinda ran dry. Then it sparked to life three times more powerful when I had the idea for this one! This is my first story in third person, and it switches between character viewpoints. You'll see what I mean. Anyway, it's been seriously fun to write so far! So, like usual, I plan on leaving out the physical description of the OC so you can either imagine her how you like, or put yourself in her place. When I post the last chapter, I'll reveal how I personally have always imagined her. But enough of my rambling!

Let's get onto the story!

* * *

The night sky was unusually bright tonight. She wouldn't have noticed this, though, if she hadn't been forced onto her back. Why had she been forced on her back? She didn't quite know. She hadn't seen anything hit her. There were other things that confused her, too. Like the sounds. She had never before heard the small, deafening explosions that surrounded her. She didn't understand, but her solution was simple: go somewhere else.

So she sat up.

This drew the attention of Feitan nearby. Hands in his pockets, he eyed the girl as she slowly raised to her feet. She had been in his path when he'd been culling the mafia guards, so he'd just went ahead and killed her, too. At least, he thought he had. He swore he had. But he must not of, because here she was alive, no hole in her to speak of. He must've made a mistake. He must've torn that hole in her shirt and thought he'd hit her, and hadn't. As irritating as he found the thought, he had to admit it had been awhile since he'd last made a mistake. It was about time for him to slip up, simply because he was, after all, human.

But this was a mistake that could be easily rectified. He didn't waste a moment. Once she was up on her feet, he plunged his arm through her chest precisely where the hole he'd made earlier was. Blood sputtered from her mouth as he retracted his arm, kept clean with the help of Nen, and he watched in satisfaction as she slumped to the ground. Whether she'd die from suffocation or blood loss first, he didn't know. What he did know is that either way would provide her plenty of time to suffer. He turned his back on her, facing instead an impatient Phinx.

"That was a waste of time," Phinx scowled, eying the soon to be corpse behind Feitan.

"You think we should have let her live?" Feitan inquired, tone implying he already knew the answer.

"I'm saying you didn't have to take the time to skewer her through. You could have just…"

"I could have just what?"

Phinx's frown deepened, his eyes still focused behind the sadistic boy. "Maybe you couldn't have. Maybe you should have decapitated her."

Confused, but careful to keep it off his face, Feitan half turned to look at the girl. To his surprise, she was rising again. The hole in her shirt still gaped, but clean of blood, and the hole in her chest...gone. That can't be right. He just had his arm there a minute ago. She couldn't have healed herself with Nen, or he would have sensed it.

"What's this?" he wondered aloud. He completed his rotation, so his chest pointed fully at the girl. "Why aren't you dead?"

She didn't answer. She barely even acknowledged him. Her eyes flicked in his direction when he spoke, but the moment sounds stopped coming out of his mouth, her eyes were elsewhere. Where, Feitan couldn't tell. They looked glazed, unfocused.

The only thing on her mind was the wrongness she felt. The loud bangs had yet to stop, and that boy kept pushing her down. Neither of those things, she felt, were supposed to happen, so she needed to move away from them. When she had taken her first few steps, though, the boy was suddenly in front of her. She stopped. Then he pushed her down again, his hand using a force she was unable to resist. He watched her, then, when she decided it was time to get up and try to leave again.

As she sat up, Phinx mused to Feitan, "That's something I've never seen before."

His frown hid by his coat, Feitan responded, "I don't like it." Then his arm was through her again. This time, through her head. She crumpled like before, and like before, only about a minute had passed before she stood back up. The hole in her head had sealed. Feitan and Phinx had watched as the bits of her skull had levitated back to her head, how the blood had seeped back into the veins it'd come from. How her eyes had blinked, and she'd straightened back upright as if nothing had happened. The entire time, she hadn't made a sound, or fought back in the slightest.

"Just leave her," Phinx growled. The boss had ordered them to go crazy, not sit around and pick on a chick. Even if she was weird beyond belief.

"...You go on ahead. I've killed enough to make the boss happy. I think I'll take her to the base." Phinx grimaced, but he knew better than to argue with the boy when he got like this. And he liked keeping all of his body parts attached where they belonged.

The girl allowed herself to be dragged away by Feitan, if only because she wanted to get away from the noises. And besides, he wasn't pushing her down anymore. When they got where they were going, he threw her into a chair and tied her to it with chains. Even when the metal scraped into her wrists, she didn't so much as twitch in reaction.

Her blank expression got on Feitan's nerves, but at the same time, it got him excited. How much would it take to crack her mask? How much would it take for her to scream? Was there any wound that he could inflict that wouldn't heal? As much as he found her irritating, he was almost giddy with the knowledge that she was a toy that wouldn't break quickly. The poor girl. If she had literally been anywhere else, he wouldn't ever have discovered her. Thank god she had been where she was.

And so it came: the scalpels, the water, the acid and syringes. He didn't spare her a single tool he had collected. She was burned, she was drowned, she was poisoned, she was diced. And every single time, her skin would revert to normal, she would breathe after having been submerged, she would react and then recover from poisons. He watched her entire arm fix itself back into its socket without being touched. The entire time he kept careful watch of her Nen, but he never found anything to signify her using it. She had it, it was there, but there wasn't even a single sign that she'd trained with it. It never hardened, it never spiked, nothing. The only time he ever saw it react was when he visibly saw a slice in the skin close, and even then, he never felt it. It was like her Nen was doing in all on its own.

The only time she ever made sound was when he directly elicited it from her. Only when he's put pressure on her lungs would she wheeze, only when he grinded her vocal chords with his hands would she gasp before being cut off by lack of airflow. And her eyes. The hair on his skin stood on end when he watched her eyes remain unaffected, boredly half lidded throughout every type of torture. It's as if she wasn't there.

She was unsettling, even to him, but he had his fun. Never before had he been able to run so many experiments on a live subject. He could pour gasoline down her throat and drop in a match, and watch as the fire broiled out of a living person. Sometimes she would appear weakened, but it never lasted long. Even when she had a fire eating her from the inside out, she sagged in her seat only a few times before the fire extinguished inside of her. When that was done, he moved on to other chemical reactions he could cause in her stomach. It was all too soon when the rest of the troupe returned to interrupt him.

He felt them before he heard them, and heard them before he saw them. Well, saw Shalnark. Shalnark was about the only one who would ever enter Feitan's territory.

"Phinx told us you got a new toy," he said, stretching as he walked in. His eyes went straight to the chair where she was tied, curious. "She still looks fine. Have you not done anything with her?"

"I've done everything," Feitan stated plainly.

Shalnark's expression remained as constant as the smaller boy's. "Everything, huh? And she's still like this? Impressive."

Without a word, Feitan dug his fingers into the girl's arm. Shalnark had to admit, he'd never seen anyone put up with Feitan without screaming. Heck, she wasn't even flinching. Blood ran down her arm long before the boy removed his fingers, leaving five gorey holes. Shalnark nearly repeated that this was impressive, when the dripping blood started to flow against gravity. He watched, fascinated, as her arm healed without a trace of the injury.

That definitely explained Feitan's interest.

"We'd better show this to the boss," he decided, not asking for the boys permission. Feitan didn't argue, although Shalnark got the feeling he was upset about sharing his toy.

Upon hearing Shalnark's vague 'you've got to see this', Chrollo joined him to Feitan's torture chambers. Entering, he found nothing extraordinary about the girl. If anything, she looked dead to him. Not because she was wounded -in fact, she looked perfectly healthy for having been with Feitan for so long- but it was her eyes. Her eyes didn't see anything, and for a moment, he had to wonder if she was blind.

Feitan gave Chrollo the same demonstration he'd shown Shalnark, who was undoubtedly filling in the others on their find. When the holes healed right up, Chrollo stepped closer to the girl, Feitan moving aside. When she didn't react to his presence, he knelt to face her at eye level.

Finally, she was looking at him. Her eyes bore into his, rarely blinking. He returned the stare, the two of them seemingly searching each other's souls and coming up with seemingly nothing. Chrollo then aggressively spiked out his aura towards her. His hit hers with crushing force, but she didn't budge. Her Nen didn't even react to protect her. Instead, to his intrigue, it had felt like his own aura had hit an immovable wall.

So he asked, their eyes still connected, "What's your name?"

Until Chrollo had met her eyes, she hadn't been thinking much of anything. She had observed where she was, observed the boy who was with her, and observed all the things he had done to her. But when the pale man in the fur coat had knelt in front of her, their eyes had locked, and she had found something inside of them that had prevented her from looking away. Perhaps that's why, when he spoke, she actually heard his words. Specifically, she had heard the word 'name'. She recognized the word. She couldn't quite put together exactly what it meant, but she had a response. She didn't know what the response meant, either, but she knew that was what she was supposed to say when someone said to her 'name'. Her lips cracking, bleeding as she moved them for the first time on her own, she gave her answer.

"Ilya."

"Ilya," Chrollo repeated. Then he stood, but her eyes followed him. "Who are you, Ilya?"

She didn't answer. Although she heard what he had said, the only word with significance that he had said was 'Ilya', and she didn't have an response for that.

The man continued, "What is your ability?"

Again no response. This time, Feitan offered, "She has not said a single word but the one she said to you."

"Does she speak another language?"

"Not that I can tell. Judging by her reply to you, she seems to understand ours."

"I don't think that's right," Chrollo denied, studying her. "I think she understood the phrase, or the word, but not the language. She's only been taught bits of how to communicate. Either that, or she wasn't taught and she's picked up only pieces on her own." His words sounded reasonable to him, but Chrollo still felt that he was missing something. Considering all he'd seen, he asked, "Can she heal from fatal wounds, too?"

"Yes."

"It's possible there was an injury to her head that killed many of her brain cells. When they reassembled, they must not have retained the functions they had learned before." That had to be it, Chrollo reasoned. Still, he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he wasn't seeing the whole picture.

Feitan thought back to when he'd put a hole through her head, then dismissed it. She had already been acting strange before he'd done that. Instead of dwelling on that, he inquired, "What must I do with her?"

Chrollo pondered this for a minute. An immortal body could be extremely useful for the Phantom Troupe. If he trained her well enough, and she was able to replace him as head when he died, the Troupe would be as immortal as her. Yes, she was definitely worth keeping. The problem would be that she was basically a shell.

"Do what you want, but don't harm her head. I plan to try to see if I can mold her into some use."

* * *

So? First impressions anybody? Have you begun to form a picture of Ilya in your head? This is my third Hunter x Hunter fanfiction, actually. I'm shocked I've written this much over one anime! But with such a wide canon world, there's just so much to do! And my first one was so much fun to write (also being over the phantom troupe) that I guess I just craved to repeat the process. So here we are, on my third Hunter x Hunter fanfiction! Can you tell it's my favorite anime? Anyway, I can't wait to hear your reactions! And I can't wait to hear how you imagine Ilya!

Till then, Kisses from SnowyNeko! :3 MEOW!


	2. Chapter 2

Hey guys! So so far it seems like you like the story, and I'm delighted! Thank you so much for reading! Ilya's proving to be extremely fun to explore, and I hope you feel the same. I should probably point out that this is going to be a story focused primarily on character development, but that doesn't mean that nothing interesting will happen. I personally prefer interesting characters over action-packed stories, but even I'll admit that a story with only character development can be boring. So stay tuned!

I now present chapter two!

* * *

Between bouts of torture at the hands of an eager Feitan, Chrollo would come sit with her in the dark torture room. Sometimes he would bring a book and just read, but every now and again he would speak to her. Each conversation was one sided, no questions slipping out of Chrollo and no responses rising out of her. Here eyes, though, were always on him. Feitan found it annoying that he could never draw a reaction from her, and yet all his boss had to do was walk in the room and he had her attention. He didn't like it, but every distaste he found towards her was overruled by the exciting challenge of a toy hard to break.

During one visit of Chrollo's, he laid his book in her lap and told her to read it. Of course, she couldn't. She did, however, glance down at the weight on her knees. When she looked up and met his eyes again, he was astonished to find the first flicker of a question in her gaze.

 _What is it?_

"It's a book. It contains characters that represent words." Of course his explanation didn't reach her. Patient, he pointed to the book, then laid his finger on his bottom lip in demonstration. "Book." Then he returned his finger to the book.

Her eyes had followed his finger obediently, but it took her awhile to puzzle things together. Despite how little he talked to her, he was the only one who talked to her at all. She was beginning to understand that his sounds were directed at her, that he meant something. She was learning, but while she was learning, a familiarity nagged at the back of her mind. She knew what talking was. She didn't know why, though. No one had ever talked to her before….or had they? She had no recollection of it, but she felt that someone had. And as she thought this, her mind worked out what the man was trying to do. She looked down at the thing in her lap, repeating, "Book."

"So you can learn words." Chrollo retrieved his book from her and returned to his seat. He held it open in his lap, but kept his eyes on Ilya. She kept her eyes on him in return. Eventually, he pointed to his chest and said, "Chrollo."

It didn't immediately snap, her thoughts still sluggish, but she understood quicker this time. Without looking away from him, she repeated, "Chrollo." When he pointed to the book, she said book, and when he pointed to himself, she said Chrollo. Then she blinked, confused. She understood what he was doing, but what was _she_ doing? Why was she inclined to repeat him when she understood him?

Chrollo watched her intently, now, something inside of him sparking to life. Gradually, the emptiness was wearing away behind her eyes. They looked far from full, but coherent thoughts were appearing behind them, and something about that almost made him smile. Not quite, but almost. He absently wondered if she was Uvogin's gift from the dead, to thank him for the marvelous requiem he had put on last night, but then dismissed the idea. He might have believed in souls, but his beliefs were far from that spectacular.

He taught her a few more words, among them being coat, chair, and chains, before he was struck with a new curiosity. Her aura was strange, to say the least. She seemed to not have an awareness of it, and yet it clearly worked with purpose to heal her body. So he spiked out his Nen to the side, forming a ball of it attached to him loosely through a thin line. He pointed directly at his, and her eyes followed. Then, dropping his hand, he moved the Nen ball higher. Her eyes followed. So she could see it.

"Nen," he said.

She showed no more recognition towards that word than she had any other when she repeated once more, "Nen."

Setting his book aside, he laid a hand on the edge of her aura, pointed back to his, and laid his hand on hers again. She said the word once more and he knew she understood that the two things were the same.

When he saw this, an even stronger curiosity settled over him. What he felt was far from what Feitan felt, although you could sum up both of their feelings towards her with the words fascination and interest. Feitan wanted to draw out anything that laid beneath the surface, but Chrollo wanted to _create_ that thing beneath the surface.

So he broke the chains binding her limbs and pulled her to her feet. At first, he simply had her mime motions like waving, nodding, and shaking her head. Then he made up his mind and lead her out of the room.

Every eye in the Phantom Troupe turned on them when they emerged. When he stopped walking, so did she. Feitan grimaced, knowing with this that he'd lost permission to play with her.

"Is that the girl Feitan's been fawning over?" the samurai questioned.

"Bite your tongue, Nobunaga," Feitan warned.

"This is Ilya," Chrollo introduced, motioning to her. "I'm sure Shalnark has told all of you about her immortal body. The proof is that she has lived this long under his care. Currently, she is a blank slate, which we can work in our advantage. I want to train her to take Uvogin's place in the Troupe."

"Chrollo." His head didn't turn to acknowledge Machi. "Are you sure she isn't one of Omokage's dolls?"

"She isn't. Her aura is her own, not his. And besides, Feitan can vouch for the fact that she's human." The fact that the boy in question didn't speak against this was confirmation enough for the other members.

"She's about as good as a doll, though," Shalnark noted, hopping off the rubble he'd been sitting on and poking the girl's unresponsive face. "She's as blank a slate as they come. I can work with that!"

"She'll be out here with us from now on," Chrollo announced. "The more she sees and hears, the more she'll learn. Once we're able to communicate with her effectively, we'll begin with the physical and Nen training."

"Should we initiate her, then?" Phinx wondered.

Chrollo shook his head, hopping up onto his usual ledge and taking his seat. "We'll hold off until she's learnt enough." And with that, he finished his explanation and opened his book. The girl stood absently at the foot of the ledge staring up at the top. She had been following up until then, but knew herself unable to climb up what he had lept. So she stood, blinking, left with nothing to think about or follow with the object of her attention gone. She kept on staring even when Shalnark tapped her shoulder. Ignored, Shalnark wedged himself into the small space between her and the wall of the ledge, poking her again to get her attention. Once more failing, he followed her line of sight before boosting himself to the top of the ledge and peering down at her. Only when his eyes met hers did she finally seem to realize he was there.

"Hiya!" he greeted her. Slapping a hand to his chest, he said, "I'm Shalnark, but you can call me Shal if you like."

Shizuku, stepping lightly around Ilya, told Shalnark, "She doesn't understand. You're too complicated."

Rethinking things, he simply says, "Shalnark."

She remained seemingly unaffected by his new attempt, until she surprised everyone by repeating his name the same way she had done for Chrollo. She continued to do the same for Shizuku, then Nobunaga, then Phinx, followed by everyone else ending with Hisoka. Each time a new one was introduced, she was quicker to say the name. By the time Hisoka was reached, there was barely any delay to speak of before she repeated his name.

When she repeated his name, and no one tried to immediately speak to her again, she found herself locked eyes with the joker. She saw something in his eyes, something very wrong. That something prompted her to look away on her own for the first time. She returned her gaze to the top of the ledge, her thoughts being on Chrollo but her eyes meeting Shalnark's.

Her eyes did not follow him, though, when he jumped down off the ledge, nor did she look at him when he took her by the shoulders and sat her down in a place with a full vantage point of the crumbling room they were in. Her gaze only shifted when he moved her head so that she faced the whole of the room.

For the rest of the day, the Troupe acted as if she wasn't even there. They discussed what to do about the chain user, and what they were going to do with the auction they had control over, and she heard every word. Not that she understood a single one.

At least, at first she didn't.

The first new word she picked up on was actually two words that she identified as one. Chainuser. Something about the way they said it brought on a feeling of wrongness, and she came to understand that this chainuser thing was bad. Her brain then connected the first half of her new word to the word Chrollo had taught her for the things that had held her to the chair. The only outward sign of this realization was a slight widening of her eyes, but no one took notice. It's unfortunate, really, because that was the first hint of an expression that she had ever shown.

Her thoughts followed that loose train of thought, as wobbly as that train might have been, and she wondered if the chainuser was anything like the chains. Was the chainuser also something that kept them in place? Was it something that needed to be removed, like Chrollo had done to the chains to get her out of that chair like he'd wanted?

She also came to recognize the word auction, although she couldn't plaster any meaning to it. It was simply a thing they spoke about often. Sometimes they spoke about it neutrally, other times with a feeling of wrongness, and a few other times with a feeling of rightness. She could not understand their disposition of it, but she understood that it mattered. Along with auction, she picked up on a few words that she could tell did not matter. Mafia, for example, was something dispensable. So was money.

This continued throughout the day, although she showed few signs of it. The visible signs she did show were so minute that even Shalnark, who was the only one who would spare her a glance besides Feitan, who was mourning the loss of his toy, didn't notice. In fact, in the back of his mind Shalnark was worried she wasn't absorbing anything at all like the boss had hoped she would. He had to admit that he might've hoped she would as well, just to see what it would be like to teach a human how to be human. He had to laugh at himself. They were the Phantom Troupe! Sure, they were human, but they were far from what normal people would consider acceptable. In the eyes of the world, they were hardly qualified to teach this girl. But teach her they would, because it was the boss's orders. They would teach her even if, as a result, she became a monster.

* * *

I like Shalnark. Anyone else? He's definitely one of my favorites in the Phantom Troupe. If I had to choose a single favorite, though...it'd probably be Chrollo. I just wish he had more time in the anime. I know he probably shines more in the manga, but all I can say to that is hiatus. What about you guys? Who's your favorite? And has anyone formed an image of Ilya yet? I look forward to hearing!

Till then, Kisses from SnowyNeko! :3 MEOW!


	3. Chapter 3

Okay, so I've been meaning to say this, but it's been slipping my mind the past few chapters. The passage of time in this story is going to be slightly altered from the canon work. That's to give more time for Ilya to actually become someone before the showdown between Chrollo and Kurapika. I mean, at this point, she's still growing into a person. So while in the original work there was only a max of three days in between the auction raid and Chrollo's capture, there will probably be a few more days passing here. Kay? I hope that clears up some confusion that might've come down the line.

Anyway, onto the story!

* * *

It was late that night, a full twenty four hours having passed since her initial arrival, before anyone spoke directly to her again. Some of the Troupe members had gone out, other wandered off to find a place to rest their heads. She was still sitting there, though, eyes trained on the area where they had been conversing earlier in the day. Since the sun had set, a heaviness had begun to settle over her. She was nearly about to let her chin drop to her chest when a certain clown settled himself in front of her, forcing her eyes to meet his. Immediately, she felt the same sense of wrongness she had felt earlier that day, and went to look away, when he spoke his name.

"Hisoka."

The impulse implanted in her, she locked her eyes where they were and echoed, "Hisoka."

He adjusted in his seat to find a more comfortable position, before wondering aloud, "You say that, but how can one be sure that you know that Hisoka is me? You simply sound like a parrot to me."

He wasn't giving her new words, nor had she not known him to be Hisoka already. So she averted her gaze and brought it back to the ledge, where Chrollo still sat reading. She couldn't see him, nor could she connect the light that was glowing to mean he was reading by it, but it had been the last place she had seen him go. She just assumed he was right there.

But Hisoka stood and blocked her line of sight. She blinked, but kept looking at him. Other than towards Chrollo, she didn't know where else to redirect her eyes to. Something about what Hisoka was doing didn't sit right with her, though. She would look away, if she had another place to look away to.

Knowing her too stupid to look elsewhere, Hisoka kept his place between her and the boss. It would have been preferable had he been able to sit, but sacrifices must be made on occasion. And she was too good of a treat to pass up.

Drawing a card out of his pocket, he flicked it out and it stuck, sunk halfway into her shoulder. Shalnark had been telling the truth when he'd said that injury didn't faze her, but that wasn't the reason he'd done it. Not a minute had passed before he noticed that the card no longer seemed as deep. Indeed, it was slowly excreted from the skin, the blood around it gurgling back into her body. By the time his card hit the floor, her skin had stretched over and covered where the slice had been. The only evidence left was the slit in the shoulder of her already torn up shirt.

He didn't give her the satisfaction of bending over and breaking their eye contact to pick up his possession, simply snapping it back into his hand with his bungee gum. Then, he tapped the edge of the card against his lips. Tongue snaking out when the card drew blood, he imagined her humanized. He imagined her trained by Chrollo, exceeding at combat and Nen and ready to fight. How powerful would he have to be to kill one with Chrollo's expertise, plus a body that recovers indefinitely? How incredible would it be when he succeeded?

His lips trembled into a bloody smile at the thought.

The more Hisoka looked at her, the worse Ilya felt. Something seemed to be growing behind his eyes, bulging so large and gruesomely that it spilled into the rest of his face. Suddenly, just breathing seemed harder. She kept her breaths even, but the effort to do so was doubled. Why? She didn't care to think. She just wanted to look away from the chilling expression Hisoka wore.

So she did.

When she did, she showed Hisoka her first witnessed sign of expression. Her entire body had jolted when her eyes left him, and her eyes flew everywhere. She didn't know where to look! Where were her eyes supposed to settle? No one was demanding her attention, and she couldn't look at where Chrollo was because Hisoka was there, so where was she supposed to look?

In her panic, she forgot to put the extra effort towards breathing and her breaths began to come ragged. Her entire body shivered from the jolt it had experienced, having never tensed so suddenly of its own volition.

Chrollo had noticed this change instantly. Her body had moved notably in his En, and then he had heard her breathing. He set down his book, despite having nearly been finished, and leapt off the ledge. Hisoka moved aside for him as he approached the girl, the clown's expression having reverted to normal in the face of the boss.

Her eyes quickly skimmed Chrollo, then returned and stayed there. As she gazed up at the man, her breathing gradually returned itself to its usual ease, her spazzing muscles relaxing. Relief seemed to wash through her as she slumped, tired.

The heaviness that had been descending on her earlier felt like much more of a burden now, and she was unable to keep her back straight under its weight. Her chin, too, dropped to her chest. The only thing she felt power enough in to keep up were her eyelids. Her eyes returned to their typical half open state, she gazed at Chrollo, now kneeling before her, through the curtain of hair between them.

Calm, Chrollo picked a few strands of her hair between two of his fingers. He showed her this pointedly, giving her the word, then grabbing her hand and closing two of her own fingers around the strands.

His ease relaxing her entirely, she obediently muttered, "Hair."

Turning his head to the joker, Chrollo inquired, "What caused this?"

Smirking, the clown replied, "I'm not sure. I was just messing with her a bit, seeing for myself what Shal was going on about, when she suddenly freaked. It wasn't my hurting her. She started to panic _after_ she had healed." Hisoka could see Chrollo didn't buy it as the reason. After all, Chrollo already knew all of that. So long as the boss was on the premises, nothing went on in this building without him knowing about it. So, Hisoka offered, "It seems that Pet here is scared of me."

The man seemed to accept this, looking back to the girl and thinking for a moment. "Don't interact with her again unless I give you permission. She needs to be fond of us, not afraid, or she'll never turn out well enough."

"Of course, Boss," the clown consented. "But I have to say, it doesn't look like she's 'fond' of anything except you."

"She's fond of learning."

"Oh? Enlighten me. What about her makes you think that?"

"If you can not tell, you simply aren't observant enough." Chrollo closed his eyes to say this, not having to see to know the smirk had flipped into a frown on Hisoka's face.

"My apologies. I wasn't thinking when I questioned you."

"Don't you have some havoc to be causing somewhere tonight?"

That smirk returned. "Always." Knowing a dismissal when he heard one, Hisoka declared, "I'll be off to do that. Have fun with the Pet."

Chrollo partially expected Ilya to relax to the point of sleep with Hisoka's departure, but she didn't even notice. Ever since Chrollo had reentered her sights, she had shoved the clown's presence to the back of her mind. He was the last thing for her to think about, and she definitely was not going to dwell on that smile he had shown her before Chrollo had come back.

When she saw him lay his hand on his chest, she readily answered him, "Chrollo." Despite the fact that she already knew that, and that Hisoka doing the same thing earlier had turned her away, she found nothing ill in repeating this now. If anything she felt a rightness perhaps similar to the one she had heard earlier, when they had been talking about the auction.

Although this rightness did not portray itself in her voice like it had for the members of the Troupe, Chrollo saw it in the haste of her response. He had noticed it before, when she was reciting the names of all the legs of the spider, that she had gotten quicker and quicker about speaking. She might not have been the fastest to catch on, but she picked up speed steadily until now. She had just now begun the 'kuh' sound before his fingers had even landed on his chest. And this was also the first time she had done this without verbal prompting immediately prior. Yes, he was sure that she was learning, and he was sure that she was enjoying it. Why else would reply so eagerly when she was clearly ready to pass out?

Lowering his hand, he praised, "Good job, Ilya."

There. She latched onto that word as soon as he said it. There was something about that word. She couldn't quite grasp it, but like the words she had discerned earlier, she knew whether or not it mattered.

It mattered.

Chrollo definitely noticed when she opened her mouth, her lips struggling to move correctly. Yes, he had said something, but it had not been a single clear word. He didn't think he had done anything to indicate meaning to her. Not only that, but this time she wasn't directly copying the motions of his mouth. She had either waited too long to do that, was confused by the sentence he had used, or was trying to say something else entirely. And he was impatient to hear it.

"I-il…"

"Ilya?"

Before he'd even finished saying it she blurted, "Ilya!"

Her outburst caused him to pause, but she said no more. She fell back into silence, and he was left to puzzle out what she meant. This was her first time doing something other than repeating. She hadn't phrased it like a question. Actually, she was pretty much doing what she'd been doing all along. This time, though, she had been the one to initiate it. She had raised her voice, however slightly, when she'd finally found the word. She was trying to speak to him.

He spoke her name a few more times, gaining an intense stare out of her and her usual repetition. The difference was that she said the word over and over again in a tone that, if he had to put a description to it, sounded agitated.

Finally, he reached under her curtain of hair to lay a hand just below her neck and just above her breast. As per usual, she didn't react to the touch. So he went ahead and told her, "Ilya."

And for once, she didn't respond. She blinked, breaking the staredown she'd been giving him. Then her hand moved. At first it just twitched, but slowly, jerkily, it raised to cover his where he held it still on her chest.

Her hand warm over his, she breathed, "...Ilya."

"Ilya," he repeated.

Her eyelids widened again, and a smile tugged at Chrollo's lips. It was strangely wonderful, teaching her like this. There was just something about seeing the subtle awe on her face.

Raising his other hand to rest it on Ilya's head, he ordered her, "Sleep, Ilya."

"...Sleep?"

Her first question.

"Yes, sleep." He removed his hands from her, her hand falling back to her side. Then he returned to his ledge, picking up his book to where he had left off. His mind wasn't with it, however. He couldn't stop thinking about the pure astonishment that had colored her blank face when she'd discovered what her own name meant.

With her on his mind, he was very aware when she slumped farther within his En, and her breathing had slowed its pace. Later in the night, he even felt her eyelids flicker with dreams.

Dreams!

He could only imagine what it was she was dreaming about!

* * *

Haha! Of course she's afraid of Hisoka! Wouldn't you be? No matter how awesome of a character he is, even I have to debate whether or not I'd actually like to meet the guy in person. But hey, what do you think? Has she been making progress? She's in quite the environment to be learning in, I'd say. Oh, and since this _is_ a mystery, I guess I should ask: Does anyone have any ideas as to who she is? Or what's going on? I guess I haven't given you guys very many hints, but that just leaves more room for imagination for now. It should be interesting to hear from you.

Till then, Kisses from SnowyNeko! :3 MEOW!


	4. Chapter 4

Hi guys! I'm back! This story has got me pumped and ready to go! I don't know if it's the content, the anime, or you guys who seem to be receiving this incredibly well...but it's probably a combination of all of that that's got me so excited to write it! I was hesitant to write like this, since this is my first ever third person story, but I'm glad it's turning out okay! And is it just me, or is this intro jammed full of exclamation points? Meh.

Please enjoy chapter four!

* * *

To you, or to me, her dream would have felt immensely simple. But it was the first time she dreamt, and the mystery of it would not leave her mind. Words, so many words! And somehow she had understood every one of them, even if she could not have repeated most of them to you after she woke.

She had not been the only one in her dream, either. He had had no face, but a voice that had been calm, humorous, and he had been holding her hand as they laid in some sort of field. He had spoke to her about the sky, and how he loved the endless blue of it. And a voice she discovered was her own had responded in agreement. And that was it, her entire dream.

When she opened her eyes, they went up. The sky shone in an uneasy grey through the breaks in the crumbling building. Something heavy settling inside of her, she lowered her gaze. The only people in sight were Pakunoda, Bonolenov, and Phinx. None of them were people who taught her. Unimpressed, she looked up to Chrollo's ledge and waited.

He wasn't there, but she had no way of knowing that. He'd actually gone out to find himself some food. For as much as he settled with living conditions, he could never bring himself to eat anything but the finest. He had decided to treat himself when he had first begun the Phantom Troupe, and they had had their first successful mission. Ever since he tasted that first steak, he was unable to return to the scrappy food that had made up his entire diet in Meteor city. So he was out in a highrise restaurant, trying to temporarily forget about the chain user and enjoy himself.

At the base, Pakunoda was the first to realize Ilya was awake. She didn't know what to think of the girl. Feitan had been the one to bring her in, so initially Pakunoda had written her off as the strange boy's brief obsession, but Chrollo now seemed interested as well. It was Chrollo's interest that got Pakunoda's attention, but more so it was how he acted around her. It was like he believed Ilya was a child, but clearly the girl wasn't. She was a teenager at the youngest, probably older, so why did it seem like she knew nothing?

The skepticism is what drew her over the the girl, who didn't look at her even when Pakunoda sat in front of her. Unbothered by her behavior, Pakunoda tried something new.

"Ilya."

No one had called her by her name before other than Chrollo, not directly like that. And, almost to Pakunoda's surprise, the girl responded. Her eyes snapped away from the ledge to meet Pakunoda's gaze, and she greeted, "Hello."

Of course, Pakunoda found nothing odd about this. Why would she? She hadn't been paying attention enough to know that Ilya shouldn't have known this word, not with what they had taught her. Even if they had tried, the concept would have been far too difficult for her to have grasped. No, the word was one that she knew on her own, and yet a word she hadn't known yesterday.

"Tell me, Ilya," the woman said, taking the girl's hand in hers. "Who are you?"

She had tossed her stone, caused the ripples, but...what was it that she was seeing? For one, she could tell that the girl truly hadn't understood what she'd said, but….she was seeing other things. The girl hadn't understood her, but she had understood she was asking something of her. And the girl was frustrated. Pakunoda listened and watched in amazement as the girl ran through every thought, every memory and experience she could dredge up in an attempt to figure out what the question meant and how she could answer, and….the girl's lack of memory was astonishing. Pakunoda could only catch snippets as Ilya rushed to think as fast as her mind could move, but there was nothing. No significant places, no significant events, no significant….no, wait. There was a person. A person that was just barely there, but Ilya passed by him as fast as anything else. And Ilya's reflection. As briefly as Ilya shifted through it, Pakunoda saw a moment, a memory of Ilya staring at herself.

As the woman retracted her hands from the girl, she noticed that very little of this thought, and almost none of the frustration Ilya was feeling bled through onto her face. Maybe the corner of her lip twitched downwards, and her eyes had darkened with a hint of expression, but other than that she was as unreadable as ever.

"What'd you find?"

Pakunoda didn't jump when Shalnark appeared behind her. "Not much. I suspect amnesia of some sort."

"The boss had a theory like that," he informed her. "A head injury, he said, that would have killed her if not for her regenerative abilities. She regenerated new brain cells and poof, lost memories."

Pakunoda had to admit that made a lot of sense, except for one thing. If she caught it right in Ilya's memories, Feitan had caused an injury like Shalnark just described. The problem was that Ilya, no matter how plain they were, had plenty of memories from before the incident. In other words, her regenerated brain kept memories. So why was it that she only seemed to have about a year's worth of a past?

She was about to explain this hole to Shalnark when Ilya spoke up before her. The girl had realized, however slow, that Pakunoda's attention had been turned to someone else, so Ilya had looked to him. Her previous frustration was relieved when she found she knew what to say in response to his appearance.

"Hello, Shalnark!"

The blonde blinked, taking a second to glance over at the girl. Unlike Pakunoda, he _had_ been watching her, keeping tabs on her progress. He knew that a greeting wasn't something she would have known, and the way she had said it, it had sounded like she was almost happy. Almost.

Fascinated, he grinned, "Hello, Ilya!"

Her lips twitched again, upwards this time, but not out of effort on her part. She had done something right! She had said the right thing, and he had responded! And he had smiled at her, too. Good, that was a good thing if she was right. She had first felt the rightness of smiling last night when Chrollo had smiled, but now she was nearly certain. It had to be good!

"Chrollo's going to want to hear you say that to him, when he gets back," Shalnark remarked. That not quite smile of hers vanished, replaced by confusion once again. Why had he mentioned Chrollo?

Shalnark gave her a second in case she spoke anything more, then turned back to Pakunoda. "Are you finished with her?"

Opportunity to speak having passed, the woman stood, deciding to keep her mouth shut about the flaw in Chrollo's theory until she'd thought about it a little more herself. Yes, she knew she should let him know as soon as possible, but honestly, she felt a little bad about shooting down his theory without offering one to replace it with. Chrollo didn't like not having answers.

So Shalnark sat where Pakunoda had been sitting, and took note of the fact that Ilya's body language had actually seemed somewhat like that of a normal person's during his conversation with the woman. Ilya had begun to glance in between the two of them while they spoke, and when Pakunoda had gotten up to leave, her eyes had settled onto him. That wasn't to say she felt normal yet, but this was certainly an improvement from blank stares and unreachable attention.

In light of this, Shalnark spent his time teaching her more. He had begun to form a hypothesis that the more she learned, the faster she would learn, so word after word he taught her. Rock, shirt, smile, frown, anything he could think of that he could easily find an example for, he would teach her. Every now and again he would pause and review for her, the word she had the most trouble with remembering being Zetsu. Whenever he portrayed an aspect of Nen, he would try to get her to repeat it. From her interactions with Chrollo, he had figured out she could see it, but for the life of him Shalnark couldn't get her to consciously use it. He had thought it would be like having her copy a physical motion, like waving, but she never once repeated anything he did with his Nen. He was trying to get her to say 'manipulator' when Chrollo finally returned.

The moment his boss walked in the room, Shalnark pointed Ilya in his direction. The girl looked, thinking it was another thing he would name, then lit up when she saw it was Chrollo. She didn't notice the change in her own demeanor, but both Shalnark and Chrollo saw it, plain as day. This time, her lips pulled into a full smile and her eyes seem too come to life as she subconsciously copied similar behaviors of happiness that she had been seeing. Chrollo actually stopped in his tracks.

"Chrollo! Hello!"

He glanced to Shalnark, who just smiled and pointed to her. Looking back, Chrollo replied, "Hello Ilya. What have you been up to while I was gone?"

"I've been teaching her," Shalnark answered for the clueless girl. "She's really getting into the swing of things, but she hasn't learned a single thing about Nen other than names. I can't get her to do anything! Oh, and I think words other than nouns are going to be a pain to teach her."

"'Hello' isn't a noun." Chrollo decided to go for that point, rather than mention he had been equally unsuccessful at getting her to use Nen.

"That's the interesting part," Shalnark commented. "I never taught her that. Unless you did, then…"

"Then she knew it on her own," Chrollo finished. She must have known it, because she couldn't have picked it up from them. The Phantom Troupe didn't exactly greet its members every time someone returned. If she new that, then what else could she possibly know? And how could he discover it? "Ilya, tomorrow, I'm taking you into town."

"Is that a good idea?" Shalnark wondered.

While Chrollo explained that it would be informational to see her react to the environment, Ilya was thinking about the words he had said to her. Taking...her...to town? Those words...reminded her of another word. A phrase she had heard before. She couldn't for the life of her remember who said it to her, but she had certainly heard it before..

"T...Taking…" They stopped, glancing to her. "...me on...a date?"

Chrollo and Shalnark blinked in synch, looking at each other, then back to her. Then Shalnark burst into laughter. Even Chrollo cracked a snicker as she looked between the two of them. Had she been wrong? Why were they doing that?

Chrollo noticed her wilt though, and assured her, "I suppose that's technically true, so alright, a date."

"A date?"

"Yes."

"Chrollo, I didn't know you were into girls like that," Shalnark chuckled.

"You know what I mean," the boss sighed.

"I do indeed. You two have fun!" The blonde laid a hand on Ilya's shoulder. "And you, take care of our boss while you're out."

Still slightly unsure of what was going on, she just looked to Chrollo for further assurance, but he didn't give it.

* * *

Aren't misunderstandings fun? I seem to find entertainment putting characters on the spot like this, and I hope that means you guys do, too. I guess I should apologize, since this chapter felt kinda short. I do try to reach a quota of three full pages while I'm writing, but depending on chapter content it just sort of naturally becomes short or long. Is that how it is for all authors? Writing is sort of a beast of its own. You can try to tame it, but success isn't really ever permanent. In regards to that, we'll have to see how the next chapter turns out. I wonder how long it'll be.

Till then, Kisses from SnowyNeko! :3 MEOW!


	5. Chapter 5

Well, I've been quite the busy bee today. I woke up a little after eleven a.m, then went out and didn't get back until almost five! That's too much for someone who spends their days huddled inside like a hermit crab. So I'm tired now, and I've still got to take a shower after this, and eat dinner, and ugh. Why must life require us to do stuff?

I digress from your purpose of coming here. Please, read and enjoy.

* * *

You'd think it would have been one of the girls in the Phantom Troupe who would doll her up for the 'date', but no. None of the girls were particularly into that sort of thing. Instead it was Shalnark, who was having the time of his life purposely misinterpreting his boss's actions. He ran a brush through her hair and changed her clothes (which earned him a scolding from Machi) before presenting the girl to an exasperated boss at about noon.

The blonde then proceeded to nag his boss about how he had also gotten dressed up, but Chrollo couldn't exactly blend into the crowd when he wore his favorite coat. And in his defense, he was hardly dressed up. Dressed down would have been more accurate. He'd put on the only pair of jeans he owned, along with a dark shirt, and had messed his normally slicked hair. The only things about him that would have caught anyone's eye was either the bandage he had wrapped around his head to hide the cross there, or the orb earrings he always wore.

When Shalnark pushed the girl forward, Chrollo just motioned for her to follow him. And she did. On the way to and all through town, she continued to simply follow a set few feet behind him, her gaze never once wavering. The Chrollo's dismay, her devoted stare drew quite a few questioning eyes. Wanting to go somewhere more private, he considered going to a restaurant. Since she had been caught by them, he hadn't once seen her eat or drink a thing. While this would normally weaken, if not kill a normal person untrained in Nen, he imagined her regenerative abilities healed her body even as it broke itself down for nutrients. Simply put, she likely never needed to eat, although doing so would in theory grant her more strength. So that, along with the fact that he knew Shalnark would not let him hear the end of it, made him decide against the restaurant idea.

He could take her to the auction house, and although they were hardly dressed for it, that could work. She had surely heard the Troupe discuss the auction, and this was his chance to show her what it was. Perhaps he could also explain the concept of thieving. She would need to know that, after all, if she was to join the troupe.

That's when he noticed she had stopped, her presence having fallen behind just shy of the distance she had been keeping. He turned, finding her staring at the window of a shop. He would suspect her to be looking at the wares, except for the fact that the shop was empty. It was hollow, ready to be bought and filled. So that meant she was looking at-

-the person staring back at her. At first she had merely noticed the person out of the corner of her eye, but the person kept following them down all of the streets, glancing at her when she glanced at them. So, when she had seen the person clearly right next to her, she had stopped. So had they, and now they stared at each other. She didn't like it. Something about the other person settled wrong within her, and yet she couldn't tear her eyes away.

Seeing this, Chrollo laid his hands of the glass and said, "Reflection."

As per usual, she replied back, "Reflection," in kind. But then he continued.

"It's your reflection. It's you. Ilya."

She didn't understand. He had called it 'reflection', but then...he called it Ilya! He had called it her! But _she_ was Ilya! Growing frantic in her confusion, she slapped a hand to her chest and emphasized, "Ilya!"

"Yes, this is you, Ilya."

But that couldn't be right! They can't be Ilya when she's Ilya! "No!"

"Ilya-"

"No!"

Automatically, her hand drew back to hit the reflection, but Chrollo grasped her fist firmly. "Stop it!"

At this point, a sizable group of onlookers had stopped to watch the two of them. Forcibly lowering her raised fist, Chrollo lead her away from the people, and away from any reflections.

When he had brought her to an alleyway without windows around, Ilya visibly relaxed. That person had stopped following them. She was gone. Ilya hoped never to see her again.

Alone, Chrollo ordered the girl, "You can't do that. Don't draw attention to yourself. And you can't just punch your reflection every time you see it." He told her this, but he knew it didn't help. He just hoped that some part of her understood him, even if vaguely so. And she did. She understood to some degree that he was unhappy with her, and that displeasure was quick to rub off on her. Still, she didn't understand what she had done wrong.

Chrollo suddenly sidestepped, and a dart of Nen burrowed through her neck. She collapsed as he turned to the one who had thrown it.

"It took me a minute to figure out who you were, but I knew I recognized you," a burly man with jagged teeth seethed. "You're the leader of the thieving Troupe that stole my fortune! It's your fault I've been thrown into the depths of poverty!"

Chrollo simply watched him rant, hands in his pockets as the stranger gathered his aura. When he felt Ilya begin to return to her feet, he told her, "This won't take a minute, but don't let your head get hit."

The guy before them seemed shaken by her resurrection, but dismissed it in favor of his revenge. She, on the other hand, was greatly disturbed by the fact that she had been knocked down again. As if that wasn't bad enough, she could also acutely feel the bloodlust leaking off of the man who'd arrived. She might not have grasped the specifics, but she knew the situation was bad, and her reaction to situations like that was to leave.

Chrollo let her roam away, confident he'd be able to find her quick enough even if she left his sight. Besides, if she wasn't there, her head was safe, and if her head was safe then she wouldn't forget.

So she wandered out the other end of the alleyway, then frowned when she noticed the girl was back. At first, Ilya just began to walk away from her, but the girl seemed to pop up everywhere. Even when she ran, the girl would just run with her. Heart racing, she finally stopped and drew back her fist.

Her knuckles hit the hard glass, cracking her bones with the pressure, but the glass didn't give, and the girl stared back. She punched again, cracks appearing in the glass instead of her bones this time, but blood gushed over her fingers. She went to punch again when a small, tan hand met her fist and stopped it.

Her eyes went to the hand's owner, a perky little dark haired boy with wide, hazel eyes. A child, she realized. The thought immediately softened her, and although she'd have liked to get rid of the girl, she chose to instead focus on the little boy who seemed to want her attention.

"What're you doing?" he asked, examining her hands which had yet to heal. "You're hurting yourself!"

Comprehending that he was confused, she pointed to herself and once again insisted, "Ilya."

He copied her motion, pointing to himself and saying, "I'm Gon." Then he motioned to a pale skinned, pale haired boy next to him who seemed fairly distracted. "And that's Killua."

"Gon," the other boy addressed the one still holding her now relaxed hand. "Did you feel that?"

Gon blinked. "Feel what?"

"I could've sworn… I thought for a second that there was someone nearby with a really powerful, bloodthirsty aura, but it just disappeared. It was barely even there."

"I didn't feel anything," Gon apologized. "Could you have imagined it?"

The white haired kid seemed to be contemplating the possibility when Chrollo approached the two of them from behind, only Ilya noticing him before he spoke.

"I'm sorry, has she been causing trouble?"

The boys jumped, tensing into a defensive position before hastily relaxing. During this, Gon had released her hand. After sharing a look between the two of them, Killua questioned, "You know her? She was just trying to punch out that window for some reason when we stopped her."

"Thank you for doing that," he nodded to the boys, taking her healing hand in his to hide it. "I'm afraid she's not quite entirely been there as of late, if you know what I mean."

"Then you should keep a better eye on her," Killua scolded.

"Haha, yes, I'll be sure to. I looked away for a second and she slipped out of my sight, but it's a good thing I found her. Thank you for keeping her from injuring herself any farther. And if she'd broken the glass, I'd definitely have had to pay for it."

"She hurt her hand pretty badly," Gon informed him. "You'd better patch her up quickly, or it could easily get infected."

"I'll be sure to do that," Chrollo assured him, cupping the hand of hers he was already holding with his free hand. "I should probably get her home now, but thank you again!"

"Of course!" Gon smiled. "It was no problem!"

When they were out of they boys' sight, he released her now healed hand and directed her back towards the base. That was probably enough excitement for her for one day, and besides, he had learned something. She had an aversion to her own reflection, and that was something he would have to fix as soon as possible. Once she understood what a reflection was, he imagined she would quit acting so hostile towards it.

"Chrollo?"

Her hesitant voice broke him from his thoughts, and he glanced over his shoulder at her as they walked. For once, her eyes weren't on him. They were on the ground. Her words came out slowly, as if she was nervous about whether or not what she was saying was right.

"I'm….sorry?"

He smiled. Interesting. This was the first time she had ever used a pronoun, and certainly the first time she had ever apologized. Maybe she had learned it, maybe she had remembered it, but either way she was gaining more humanity. Maybe soon it would be time to teach her how to fight.

"Don't worry," he told her, head turning back forward. "I'll teach you so that you won't do it again."

Of course, this was gibberish to her, but the tone of his voice informed her that she had done the right thing. She didn't lift her head, but a smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she followed his feet back to the base, where she greeted those there with a polite, "Hello again."

* * *

...Well? I figured there had to be at least one chapter that included the two main characters of Hunter x Hunter. They're pretty important, after all. This chapter was more than just me having fun, though. I threw in a couple little pieces about her that can help you figure out her past. What were those pieces, you ask? Well, you see...I'm not telling. ^-^ That right there is a smug face, if you can't tell. I'm curious to hear, though. Where do you think the story's going? Share with a comment and we'll see if anyone's close!

Till then, Kisses from SnowyNeko! :3 MEOW!


	6. Chapter 6

Heyo! What's up, guys? Hm, what should I talk about today? I feel like I talk about free time and being busy and boredom too much. I suppose I could advertise my brother's horror game. When I say it's his, I mean like he actually _made_ the game from the ground up. It's on my mind because him and I just watched someone's playthrough of it on youtube. Oh, and it's called The Horologist's Legacy, btw. Only the demo is out right now, but the gameplay is pretty awesome, and the story is also impressive. Go try it! The demo's free! Just make sure not to click on the old alpha version.

I'm done. You can read now.

* * *

Things had finally settled down after the fortunes were read. Hisoka's had surely caused an uproar, but Chrollo had settled things in his usual calculating fashion. While the other wondered about the remainder of their fortunes, and the decision to stay in Yorknew, Chrollo's eyes wandered to Ilya. He hadn't attempted to read her fortune, since there was too much they didn't know about her. Actually, the only thing they knew was her first name, and that wouldn't do him much good. But maybe if they could find out a little more…

"Ilya," he started, "do you have a surname?"

Unlike the first time he had asked for a name, she didn't respond. He hadn't much expected her to. He asked about her birthday, and again, no response. Sure, she was a strange case, but he doubted the fortune telling ability would work with so little information.

"Boss, are you trying to read her fortune?"

He looked up at Pakunoda, who stood over him with a hand placed on her hip. "Reading her mind won't do you any good if she can't understand your question."

"It's true, I can't tell you much," she shrugged, "but I've already tried to do it. The poor girl looked for an answer despite not even knowing what I asked. I can't give you a birthday, but I can offer something close."

"Something close?"

"She tried to answer by running through all of her memories, so I can tell you that her memories started last year, April thirteenth. Obviously it's not the day she was born, but if that's her first memory, it's a birthday of sorts."

Chrollo dogeared the corner of the novel he'd picked up and set it aside. "Why didn't you tell me this immediately?"

"Forgive me, I wanted some time to think things over, but it seems like she's been in this blank state since she awoke last year."

"Then head injuries weren't the cause of it. Is that what you're saying?"

"I'm lead to believe head injuries have nothing to do with her lack of memories. It seems Feitan split her skull on multiple occasions before you ordered against it."

He had assumed as much. Pondering this, Chrollo summoned his Nen book and flipped it open, asking, "Feitan, during your time with Ilya, did you test for her blood type?"

The boy, without a fortune of his own to pay attention to, replied instantly, "AB positive."

"Get me a piece of paper and pen."

Pakunoda complied, handing Chrollo the supplies. Chrollo then transferred his book to his left hand and positioned the pen in Ilya's hand. First he guided her with his hand over hers in writing her own name, deciding to try with only her first. She didn't seem very happy when he pointed to the word and told her, 'Ilya', but he continued anyway. When it was finally all written, technically by her hand, he set took away the pen and paper and activated his Nen. To his pleasant surprise, it worked, although he swore it took shorter to write than usual. When he finished, he handed the paper to Pakunoda to read.

Her eyes skimmed it briefly before she noted in amazement, "It's a haiku."

He wanted to read it. He hadn't wanted to read a single on of the others, but hers interested him. He had half expected her fortune not to have been readable, but since it apparently was…but he wouldn't read it. Neon hadn't looked at the fortunes she'd told, so neither would he. He could at least respect the ability, having stolen it from its original owner.

So Pakunoda read it, Shalnark peeking at the poem over her shoulder.

 _Soft snow being dyed_

 _The light of spring will return_

 _The lost has risen_

While the woman tried to work out the meaning of the last line, Shalnark declared, "Yeah, I don't know about that one. The first two lines probably refer to her remembering herself. I would get the last line if it was future tense. Then it would probably mean she'd regain who she was, but since it's present tense, I don't really know. Lost could refer to any number of things."

"Lost."

The three of them glanced to Ilya, but she wasn't looking at any of them. She was staring, as blankly as ever, at a piece of crumbled concrete in front of her. She didn't know the word she had said, but felt it. It applied to her somehow, and she didn't like it.

Lips pursed, she she wondered with dismay, "What's lost?"

Chrollo couldn't tell her. That was one thing she was going to have to either learn or remember on her own. Instead of giving her an answer, he told Pakunoda, "Show it to her, then put it in one of her pockets. I'll teach her how to read it at some point." More like he'd have Shalnark teach her, since he couldn't look at the thing, but he wasn't concerned with specifics at that moment.

The woman did as Chrollo said, splaying the paper in front of Ilya's gaze. The girl looked it over, but in the end it meant nothing but scribbles to her. When Pakunoda was satisfied the girl had gotten a good look at it, she folded the fortune into a neat little square and stuck it in the girl's front jacket pocket, zipping the pocket safely shut afterwards.

"Why do you think it came out as a haiku?" Shalnark wondered as Pakunoda was finishing.

"It might've been because we didn't have her full name," she reasoned. "The birth date we wrote also wasn't the day she was born."

"Okay, but why did it work at all? You would think that if it was going to work, it'd work right, but instead it malfunctioned. If it was going to do that, why didn't it just not work?"

"Unfortunately, I don't think that's a question we an answer," Chrollo responded, closing his book. Ilya, who had looked up at him when he'd moved, blinked in surprise when the book in his hand vanished into thin air. "Likely the only person who could answer that would be Neon Nostrade, and I have no plans to see her again."

Strangely enough, Ilya was the first to notice the new pair of eyes that had settled onto her, and it wasn't until she said, "Hello, Kortopi," that the others turned to the small boy.

"Hello," he greeted her back simply. And then he continued to stare. She didn't mind it, though. Although Kortopi's age was a bit of a mystery among even the Troupe, he was small enough to register in her mind as a child, and she liked children. Something about children touched her.

"What's on your mind?" the boss asked the quiet boy.

"It's nothing much," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's easy to see that her aura is odd, but I just can't seem to get over it. I almost feel like I've seen it before."

"If you remember anything about where," the dark haired man ordered, "report to me immediately."

"Yes," the boy complied.

With a good-bye from Chrollo and Shalnark, no such acknowledgement coming from the woman, Ilya and Kortopi were left to stare at one another. Neither of them spoke, both being people of little words. Their difference was that one was that way by choice, the other by limitations. Even so, Ilya found nothing she wanted to say to the boy. She simply liked to look at him.

After a while, though, her attention started to drift, and so did her mind. Usually, something would move, or one of the Troupe members would begin talking, but when neither happened, she grew tired. Once this happened, it didn't take long for her to drift off to sleep.

" _I like the idea," the man smiled._

 _She smiled in return. "Isn't it nice? If it's a little girl, she could start a collection of your dolls."_

" _What if it's a boy?"_

" _...he might just find his father's job weird."_

 _He grinned. "How cruel."_

" _I'm just telling the truth."_

" _You should say something more along the lines of, 'If it's a boy, he'll inherit his father's talent'."_

" _There's no guarantee of that."_

" _You know, you could indulge me sometimes, Ilya."_

" _Why would I do that? You're self centered enough as it is!"_

" _Aw, come on. You mean way more to me than anything, and that includes myself! And you still call me self centered? Maybe you're just too demanding."_

" _Put a sock in it," she chuckled. "Names! We should be thinking of names!"_

" _Already? It hasn't even happened yet!"_

When she opened her eyes, Kortopi was gone. She straightened her back, having begun to ache from sleeping hunched upright, then laid back across the coarse rubble, her hand absently rubbing her stomach. She had been talking about children in the dream. Boys and girls. She had been a child once, hadn't she? Everyone was a child at one point, right?

She frowned when she found no memories of such a thing.

More pressing, though, was the man. Who was he? He had been appearing in those night visions of hers, ever since they began, and yet he never had a clear face. She couldn't shake the feeling that he was important.

Even as she thought about this, the dream was fading from her, until all that was remembered was the existence of the man and the faint impression of children.

Then a scratching seized her attention, and she sat up to find the source. Shalnark was sitting nearby, journal and pencil in hand. When he noticed her movement, he explained fruitlessly, "I'm documenting you. Everything we know goes in here." He turned the pages so she could see. "Here's your blood type, and here's the date of your first memory, and here's my estimate to your age. I had to discuss it a bit with Feitan, since he knows your body pretty well. Ah, don't take that the wrong way! We both know why he knows what he does. Anyway, we decided it'd be pretty accurate to say you're about twenty-two years of age. What do you think? Is that about right?"

Of course, she just stared at him and wondered what he was rambling on about. She hated that she still couldn't figure it out.

Shalnark took in the irritated expression on her face, chewing on the eraser of his pencil for a moment before adding a couple more words to the page. Then he snapped shut the book, which was enough to startle her, and pointed his pencil at the girl.

"You'll figure out language soon enough," he promised. "You've already begun talking in sentences. To your credit, you're figuring things out way quicker than babies do." They continued to stare at each other for some time, Shalnark sinking into deep thought, before he murmured, "The lost has risen…"

Immediately she asked again, "What's lost?"

"Dunno," the guy shrugged. "Whatever it is, it isn't lost anymore, though."

She repeated for a third time, her tone intense. " _What's lost_?"

"That's actually not the question I want an answer to," the blonde admitted. Although most of the words failed to reach her, enough of it made sense this time around to elicit a proper response.

"It's not?"

Smiling, Shalnark confirmed, "It's not. What I want to know, Ilya, isn't what's lost. I want to know what's risen."

* * *

Okay, so originally, I'd wanted Ilya to be an O negative blood type. Instead she turned out to be almost the exact same blood type as Corona from my story The Number Zero. As for why Ilya had to be AB positive? It has to do with the process of blood testing, which I did indeed have to look up and study for this. If you're really curious, you can go look into it yourself, because it's kinda hard to explain briefly. On another train of thought, no one's mentioned how they imagine Ilya's appearance. It makes me wonder if maybe she's a little too ambiguous. Is that the case? Well, we've still got a ways to go before the end, so we'll have to see if anyone comes up with anything.

Till then, Kisses from SnowyNeko! :3 MEOW!


	7. Chapter 7

So, someone had pointed out that 'The Girl' isn't much of a name. Truthfully, I agree, but you need _some_ sort of name to work with when you're posting the first chapter, and frankly, I hadn't the slightest idea what to call this when I started writing it. I wanted something simple, something that was meaningful to the story as well as something that wouldn't give anything away. So, 'The Girl' was born. I did think about changing it, but no matter what name I came up with, it just seemed like too much. What do you guys think?

Anyway, read away.

* * *

Everyone had left in a rush, the words 'auction', 'chainuser', and 'scarlet eyes' having been passed around. Whether they'd forgotten her or had left her on purpose, she didn't know, and she almost didn't care.

Almost.

It was the first time she'd been left entirely alone since Feitan had found her. She quickly discovered she didn't like it. She wished Chrollo had stayed behind, at least, but he hadn't. Now she had no one to watch, no one to listen to or speak with. She found herself bored.

So, in light of this, she stood and began to look for something to claim her attention. You would think this would have been easy for a girl who seemed to learn something from everything, but it was anything but. Without active distractions, she was left primarily to her own thoughts. The problem was that she didn't have much to think about. Before she had met the Phantom Troupe, she never had such a problem.

Why hadn't she had this problem? She couldn't seem to avoid it now, but she had paid little mind to anything before Chrollo had begun to teach her, and that had never been an issue to her. And another problem was that the question confounded her. She couldn't come up with an answer to it, or an answer to a myriad of other questions that had surfaced in her mind when she was left alone, and she found it mentally taxing at the least. At the most, she found it psychologically painful.

Not that she could have told this to anyone, had anyone been around.

So she sought, somewhat desperately, to distract herself. But how was she supposed to do that? She had never done it before. Well, even if she had never done it, others had. What would they do with her?

Feitan would probably dig some sort of sharp object into her, or drop something down her throat, but she wasn't particularly fond of the sensations his entertainment caused her. Shalnark would either be writing or talking or messing with that thing he called a phone. She couldn't write, and she didn't have a phone, but she could speak.

She began exercising her mouth, testing out words she had heard but never used. When she became frustrated with not knowing what she was saying, she began to run through things she had been taught. She started with her face, and tentatively added in pronouns, and words like 'the' and 'a'. When it sounded right in her ears, she continued until she had named every body part of hers that she knew. Then she moves onto clothes, but she didn't know much other than 'shirt' and 'pants'.

But as she continued to do this, she began to grow bored with it, too. It just didn't appeal to her as much as it did when other people were around. She continued to do it, regardless, because she knew she needed the practice, but as she did so she searched for physical things to do. At first she was simply pacing, her eyes wandering, and then her eyes fell on Chrollo ledge. This time, she knew he wasn't there, but she wondered if the stuff he usually carried was up there. Like a book. Books were strange, but they were interesting. If she understood correctly, every little scribble meant something that wasn't it. It didn't quite make sense to her, but she found it fascinating. There was even a sort of line that meant her, Ilya.

She wanted to see if there was a book, but the ledge was far from within her reach. She had gauged from the first time she'd seen it that she was unable to climb up there, but was there another way?

….she couldn't think of any. So that was out.

She sighed and returned to her monotone pacing, spitting out words and stringing them into sentences that only occasionally sounded right. It didn't last long, though. She rapidly grew fed up with it, and plopped back down onto some rubble.

Craving something, _anything_ , she lifted her head upwards. Nothing happened. Moaning, she let her head drop heavily.

Colors bloomed abruptly behind her eyes at sharp motion, causing her to clutch her face. Images, fuzzy and unfocused, arose and fell in her vision as quickly as thoughts could come and go. She couldn't process an image before it transitioned to a new one, and it made her ache. Her eyes, her brain, all of it hurt!

And then it stopped. As she caught her breath, she scrambled to understand what just happened. There were new words now. No, they were old words. Words she had forgotten. And that man had been there again! He had never appeared during the day before! He wasn't real, so why was she seeing him when she was awake? There was more than that, too. A place. A little house, and a workshop.

A workshop? She hadn't had a name for it before, but she recognized the place. The house was new, old, whatever, but she had known the workshop. That place...is where she woke up. She had woken up plenty of times after sleeping, but that place had been the first. She ransacked her brain for all it was worth to understand even a sliver more, but no. Nothing came up.

She hated this! She truly, wholeheartedly hated this! How long was everyone going to be gone? When were they coming back? Would she have to endure this until they returned? She wanted someone to come, to talk to her. Even if it still confused her, she had more words now! She wanted to try to talk with someone, rather than be talked at. That's the way it had been in the past, she knew, but she couldn't recall when that had been!

Argh! Thinking was too hard!

Gritting her teeth, she resorted to Feitan's methods. Using a nearby stone, she carved patterns into her arm and watched them healed. She made it a challenge, trying to complete some semblance of a picture before the wounds closed.

When she was in the middle of her fifth picture, of what she didn't know, her hand suddenly stopped. Slowly, she withdrew the stone from her skin and watched as the bloody slices healed.

Now that she was thinking, even if she wished she wasn't, everyone had shown interest in this. Feitan's eyes had had quite the enraptured look when he had been doing this to her, and Shalnark had seemed pretty interested in it too. Even Hisoka had done this to her, for seemingly no purpose except to watch her heal.

Why was that?

Was she….unusual somehow? Was she new? The only things she could think of that drew her own attention like that was when she was learning something new. But what about this offered something new?

She studied her arm, made it bleed some more, and repeated this. No matter how many times she did it, though, nothing stood out to her. She couldn't understand. Why did the others like seeing this so much?

The frustration caused her hand to flex and the stone to dig farther into her skin until it hit bone. She didn't care, though, and began to grind away at it.

"Hm, what's this?"

She twitched, raising her head to meet the eyes of the clown. He watched her with amusement on his lips, but she didn't like his smile. Chrollo's smile, Shalnark's smile, those had been good things, but there was something wretchedly different about the way Hisoka twisted his lips. His smile, she knew, wasn't right.

"Has Pet begun to pick up Feitan's habits?"

Finding the ability to control her temperament, she took a deep breath and removed the stone from her arm. Having been open for so long already, the wound began to heal even as she was still retracting the rock. Unable to come up with a clearer answer, she simply replied, "No."

Hisoka blinked. "Oh? You understood what I said?"

Not quite, but she had figured out that 'Pet' meant her, and that he was implying something about Feitan that she didn't like. She could tell from his tone. And since it had been a question, she had given and answer.

"If you understand what I'm saying, then this will be much easier," Hisoka concluded. He hadn't much to go off of. He'd known from the minute he'd come up with his plan that she would be the most difficult part, that she would be the chess piece most difficult to read. It was obvious she didn't like him, considering how she had reacted the other day, and judging by the way she had tensed when he had arrived, she was being cautious. He hadn't thought she'd had it in her not to trust, but it seemed like that was the case. How inconvenient. "You see, there's been a slight issue, and it seems unlikely that Chrollo will be back for quite some time. I believe our interests line up. You appear to like the boss, and I have my personal reasons for wanting the two of you to stay together. We'll have to cooperate, though." He paused, looking her over. "And you aren't getting any of this, are you?"

He couldn't be lead to believe anything else, considering how blank her gaze was. She hadn't moved since he'd begun his dialogue, and her eyes had remained cold through all of it. He was nearly correct. She still had not understood a good half of it. Most adjectives and the like had escaped her, but all she needed was what she got. Issue. Unlikely. Chrollo. Boss. Stay. Those were the primary words that grasped her attention, and along with other less significant words that she had understood, she was able to mostly fill in the blanks. It would have been easier, though, if Hisoka had boiled down his words to the bare bones. He talked too much.

Hisoka did not expect the next word that came out of her mouth.

"Why?"

So she did understand. Some of it, at least. "Why what? Why would we have to cooperate?"

"Why...won't Chrollo be back?"

"He was captured by an enemy of his. The chain user." The first sentence had been unnecessary. All she needed was 'chainuser', and she understood that Chrollo was being held.

"Why...can you...not...get rid of chainuser?"

Hisoka raised a brow. With the 'the' she'd left out, she'd sounded a bit like a caveman, but this was the most complicated sentence she'd come up with so far. "That's none of my concern. Now, will you work with me or not?"

"Why?"

"You want to see him again, don't you?" He offered her his hand. Had it been anyone but him, this would have seemed gentlemanly. With Hisoka in front of her, though, she found the gesture immensely intimidating. And then as if that weren't enough, he had to show that gruesome smile. "If you don't take my hand, Ilya, you might never see Chrollo again."

She hated him, this man in front of her. He made her blood boil. The one person she had seen able to control this joker, if he was telling the truth, was about to be gone. And if she was being given the choice to go with him or stay with this man, she didn't need the time for something as unnecessary and exhausting as thinking.

She dropped the rock in her grasp and grabbed Hisoka's hand.

* * *

Alright, so I had had a slight concern when I first began writing this story about our protagonist's name. Because of the font, it might be difficult to tell the difference between a capital I and a lowercase l. To be clear, her name is I-L-Y-A. I apologize if this causes or caused any confusion for you guys. Oh, and, after a few more chapters, I'll be branching off from the source material. Oddly enough, I'll actually be branching off in the same place I branched off in the Number Zero. That just seems like a good spot to do it. It should be an adventure discovering what happens after that. We should look forward to it!

Till then, Kisses from SnowyNeko! :3 MEOW!


	8. Chapter 8

What's up guys? So, I just finished a week of leading a giant group of tiny kids around...and I'm utterly exhausted. Dear lord, they are cute, but they're a _little_ more than a handful. So much crying. So much screaming. So glad it's done. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad I did it. There were some priceless moments in there, like when one kid tried comforted one that we couldn't stop from crying. I swear, I legitimately almost shed tears because it was so sweet. And I'm not one who cries easily, normally. But, ah! So cute! And so _done_!

Onto the story.

* * *

She regretted it. Grabbing Hisoka's hand, that is. Where he lead her, he told her to stay, and there was even less to do than there was at the base! She hadn't thought it possible! She couldn't pace, because not only was the ground was sopping wet from the nearby river, but the bridge over her head kept her hunched in a ball. The clown had forbidden her from coming out from under the bridge. From where she sat, she couldn't see the cars that were driving above her, nor could she see people passing. The low height of the bridge prevented that. It was so low she could barely sit upright, and every time a car shook the bridge she feared that it would hit her head.

She avoided having absolutely nothing to do by messing with the mud, but after hours of doing so, her hands ached. If she'd just stopped, her hands would have healed, but she wasn't aware of that. She just cracked her knuckles and continued.

It had to have been in the morning hours when Hisoka finally fetched her. Her hesitation to obey him was overruled by her immense desire to leave where she was, and when he directed her to come out, she rushed to do so. Confined spaces, she decided, were no good.

Neither one of them acknowledged the mud that caked her, although Hisoka found it distasteful. He had needed a reliable, hidden area though, that was far enough away from any of the Troupe members' paths so that none of them would chance across her aura. His plan wouldn't work unless they were under the impression she'd wandered off far away on her own. Since the hiding place had worked, he concluded that the mess was negligible.

He began to lead the girl through back streets and alleyways, and she followed obediently behind without a word. It was a bit annoying, though, how she scraped her feet when she walked. He let it slide, in light of the fact that she would soon be gone from his sight. It would probably take a good number of years, but he couldn't wait to reunite with her already. He could hardly contain himself when he thought of how much she would improve in their time apart.

Ilya glanced up at the man in front of her. She couldn't name it, but she could intimately feel the bloodlust that leaked from him. The pressure made her hesitate midstep, but she quickly let it go and continued on, continuing to scrape the mud off of her feet as she went. Chrollo, he was taking her to Chrollo. For that, she could put up with this.

When he led her to an open, concrete area, though, she found herself as uncomfortable as she'd been confined under the bridge. Something about the barren expanse made her nervous. As she thought about it, she recalled that the field she had laid in in her dream was a similar size. However, she didn't know whether the likeness comforted her, or made her unease worse. Even more intimidating were the giant, round things that were waiting in the center of the lit area. She walked towards them, but only because that was the direction her guide was taking her.

Speaking of which, said guide had his phone to his ear and seemed to be in conversation with someone. She followed his gaze to one of the round...airships? Is that what they were? The word felt right, but she wasn't sure.

In her searching for what had drawn Hisoka's gaze, she missed the people they were approaching, and missed it when the joker stopped walking to talk to them. She only came to a stop when her chest hit his arm, which he had stretched out to prevent her from going any farther. That finally drew her eyes back in front of her to where three people were staring at the two of them. What was Pakunoda doing here? And those boys she had met when Chrollo had taken her to town, why were they here?

More puzzled by the boys than by the Troupe member, she wondered, "Why are you two here?"

"So you were a spider," Killua spat, glaring up at her. She didn't understand his hostility, but what she understood even less was the distraught expression on Gon's face.

Not wanting to ask Hisoka, she asked Pakunoda, "Did I...do wrong?"

"Don't take it personally," the woman shook her head. "This is what happens when you're associated with us."

Although she didn't comprehend most of her words, Ilya knew what a shaking head meant, and it confused her. She didn't do anything wrong? Then why were the boys like this towards her? Baffled, she offered the boys a tentative, "I'm sorry."

Gon suddenly began waving his hands. "Don't apologize! It's not like you lied or anything, but I'm just upset that my first impression was wrong."

"And what was that first impression?" Hisoka inquired. So she had met the boys before. Ilya was just getting better and better in his eyes.

"You'd seemed kinda...innocent," Gon smiled sadly.

"Dude, why are you getting so worked up?" Killua sighed. "We only met her for what, two minutes?"

"I'm just upset I couldn't judge her right!"

"This is interesting," Pakunoda interjected, "but we should be boarding the airship."

That word! That must mean that she was right, correct? Pointing to one of the round things, Ilya asked for confirmation. "That is an airship?"

"Yes," the woman replied, curt. Then she began to walk. The boys copied her, followed by Hisoka, so Ilya hurried into motion, too. In her delight of having known what an airship was, Gon and Killua's reactions slipped her mind. Inside the ship, she sat by a window and folded her hands in her lap, waiting. She didn't know how she knew that the airship would lift her off the ground, but she knew, and it excited her. Her first memory of riding an airship!

Impatient, her gaze flickered around to the people with her. Hisoka was leaning against the door they had entered through. Pakunoda was sitting in the seat behind where the two boys were seated, her eyes glued out the window. The boys were silent. As she took this in, the excitement in her dimmed. She returned to staring out her window, but this time she didn't really look at anything. Something about the other people in the room made it hard for her to breathe. Her hand, which was resting palm upwards on the armrest of her chair, clenched. She couldn't stand to keep it open, for some reason. Keeping it open like that, it felt….empty. So she sat with her hands balled into fists, her eyes absently scanning the runway outside the window. When the airship finally did take off, her heart sank. She should have gotten off when she had the chance. But if she had, she wouldn't have been able to see Chrollo.

But...what if she'd understood Hisoka wrong? What if he wasn't taking her to see Chrollo? Or...what if he'd lied? Lies? Oh, those were a thing, weren't they? She'd forgotten, but now that she remembered it, she felt a bit sick. Would Hisoka tell her he'd lied if she asked? But what if he just lied again?

She tried to let it go, but no matter how she tried to justify trusting him, it didn't work. Her paranoia continued to grow the longer the flight went on, the quiet of the room leaving plenty of space for anxiety to fill.

Gon wasn't the only one to notice her unease, but he was the only one to care. Sure, Killua thought her wavering aura was strange for a spider, but it didn't matter enough for him to give it any thought. Gon watched her, though, as the Nen shrouding her grew increasingly unstable. The first time they'd seen her, Gon had been convinced she was a good-hearted person. He hated the Phantom Troupe, however. Not as much as Kurapika, but he hated them and their hypocrisy, nonetheless. But he couldn't shake the feeling that his first impression of her had been accurate. She had been emanating pure fear when she'd driven her fist into the glass that day, and fear was not something he thought he'd feel from someone like the spiders. And then there was the added fact that she had appeared legitimately hurt when Killua had hissed at her.

And all of this culminated to make him feel guilty for not comforting the girl who was so obviously distressed.

Killua grabbed his arm when he went to stand. "It's none of our business."

"I know, but-"

"Leave it."

Gon huffed, "I can't!" before yanking free his arm and approaching the girl. All eyes except hers were on him as he stepped over to her. Ilya was too wrapped up in her racing thoughts to notice the boy. When Gon stopped by her seat, she still didn't look up. Then he asked, "Are you alright?"

Her eyes finally lifted, but her response came slow. First she had to comprehend what he'd said, but then she paused to wonder why. Why did he care? But the sight of his concerned expression convinced her to swallow her suspicions and formulate an answer. "I...will be fine."

"But you aren't right now?"

She shook her head.

"Why not?"

She couldn't answer. She had understood his question, she had _understood_ it! But she had nothing to say back, and it was infuriating. Why wasn't she alright? Was it her awakening suspicions? The atmosphere? The empty feeling? What was so terrible? And if she wasn't alright, then what was she? Emotions….emotions were so difficult!

Hisoka watched in fascination as Ilya shook her head fiercely, tears beginning to stream down her face. He had been wondering what she had been thinking about for awhile. Certainly, the air had been thick with tension from the beginning of the ride, but at this point she was the main contributor to the dreary atmosphere. Even if she wasn't aware of it, she was oozing negativity. He hadn't expected her to breakdown and cry, though. What was it, exactly, that could drive such an empty girl to cry? He had to wonder.

Gon sat next to her seat and held her hand, which she held back with a death-like grip. Killua sighed, propping his head up with his hand and watching in silence with the other two as his friend tried to help the strange girl. It wasn't until the airship began to lower that she finally seemed to get ahold of herself, her tears drying up somewhat. When Gon asked if she was better, she'd shaken her head, but released his hand.

When she realized they were leaving the airship, she tripped over her own feet in her haste to get off. It was Hisoka who caught her by the arm, which she stiffened when she saw. The second she'd regained her balance, she wrenched away from his hand and kept walking. The clown clicked his tongue and simply let it lie.

Her quick feet grinded to a halt when she found herself atop a wide, rock platform surrounded by canyon-esque drops. The only things on it were the airship behind her, and the second airship on the other end. Her finger raised to her lip nervously at the sight of her desolation, the tip of her nail sliding subtly between her teeth as she scanned the area.

The other three came out behind her, lining up to face the airship opposite of them. Since that seemed to be the important thing, Ilya looked, too. That's when she saw four figures exiting the airship. Three of them, she had never seen, but one she identified even from a distance because of his signature coat. The shadow of doubt in her lifted when she saw him, gone completely from her heart.

"CHROLLO!"

Hisoka's arm blocked her yet again before she could run another step towards the boss. She glanced at him, impatient, but he was talking on the phone. She decided, though, that she couldn't wait any longer, not with terrifying man. She slipped under the arm withholding her and sprinted off towards Chrollo. It hadn't even been a day since they'd separated, but so many confusing things had happened to her since he'd gone. The memories, the new words, hiding under a bridge, the feelings, emotions….it'd been too much for her to handle alone. But now Chrollo was here! He could teach her! He always had a way of explaining things to her, of making things make sense when they hadn't before. He was back, and everything would be okay.

When she'd gotten halfway across the platform, Chrollo was released to walk towards her. His eyes shifted from her to Hisoka as he puzzled out why he'd brought her here. With the pace that Ilya was closing the distance between them, it wasn't long before she'd barreled into the man. If Chrollo hadn't been as battle hardened as he was, he might've been knocked back by the force with which she'd grabbed onto him.

He stood still as she squeezed him with everything she had and sobbed his name into his coat. He'd been surprised. Not by her running towards him, although he definitely hadn't expected that, but by the passion with which she was greeting him. It seemed...sudden. She surely had not had this in her the last time he'd seen her. As she clung to him, though, the shock gradually faded, and he lifted a hand to cradle her head against his chest. The hand calmed her, her cracked sobs slowly quieting, and her limbs relaxing as she held him as close as she could. For that one moment, everything was fine for her.

Everything was alright.

* * *

Mm, this one was cute. I found Ilya kind of adorable in this chapter. Didn't you? So recently, on a completely unrelated note, I watched the Secret Life of Arietty. It's a studio ghibli film about little people living in someone's house. Anyway, so I'm watching it, and all the sudden I think 'I've seen this before'. I can't say when, or where, but I can say with absolute certainty I watched the movie when I was smaller. And if that's the case, I watched it before I started watching anime! That was a total mind blowing moment for me, right there. Has that ever happened to you guys? I'm going to look into it, and see if I can figure out how I came across it when I was younger.

Till then, Kisses from SnowyNeko! :3 MEOW!


	9. Chapter 9

So I just bought Dangan ronpa 2: Goodbye Despair. I'm loving it. Great game. However, it's so **long**. And it feels like I just don't have time! I mean, I've also got to write, do summer homework (kill me), go to work, ect. I've also got books upon books I need to read. Some of them I've got to finish because they're library books, another is one I have to annotate for school, and I actually just went to the book store and bought more books I really want to read. GAH! Why must time be so restricting? There's too little of it!

Anyway, on a more relevant note, onto the story.

* * *

By the time Ilya lifted her head, the airships had gone. Hisoka, who had lingered behind even after the airship's takeoff, had also left after a brief exchange with Chrollo. She didn't particularly mind the absences of what had been there earlier, but instead turned to Chrollo and asked, "We go….are we going back to base?"

"Are we going back to the base?" he repeated to clarify. Then he answered, "No." It wasn't like that was _the_ place to return to, anyway. If there was a place like that for the Phantom Troupe, it would've been Meteor City. That was about as close to a home as any of them had. But that building he'd found in Yorknew could, he supposed, prove useful again the next time he needed to gather any of them in Yorknew. However, with the conditions the chain user had set on him, Chrollo doubted he'd be gathering any of the Troupe members anywhere for some time.

Confused, she began, "Then where…?"

"We'll travel until we find a city," he told her, stepping out of her grasp. Her hands fell to her sides as she watched him go to the edge of the platform and peer downwards. Normally, he would have had no trouble climbing down. Heck, he could have _jumped_ down the side of the miniature gorge if he had had his Nen. But he didn't, and he also had Ilya to worry about.

Or, maybe not. Looking back at her, it occurred to him that she might be easier to get down than he was. All he had to do was push her, let her splat, then wait for her to heal back up. It was ugly, sure, but a simple solution nonetheless. Chrollo didn't fancy the idea, though, so he went around the edges looking for the easiest spot to climb down. When he eventually found an area that looked plausible, he motioned for her to come over.

Ilya watched without much concern as he began his way down the side. Only when waved for her to follow him did she begin to get anxious. He meant...for her to do that? She had grown used to Chrollo being an almighty being, someone who could do infinitely many things that she could not, but now he wanted her to copy him? To lower herself down a vertical cliffside?

But as he inched farther down and farther away from her, she finally found the conviction she needed to follow him. She mimicked him the best she could, slipping her hands and feet into the same handholds and footholds he had whenever she could. After a short while, she grew used to it. She was fine, so long as she did as Chrollo told her.

The image of her falling and becoming a stain on the ground below hadn't been prominent in Ilya's mind, but Chrollo was relieved when they both reached the lower ground without plummeting partway. He examined the scratches in his hand. It felt odd, having lasting injuries like this. Usually his Nen was enough to prevent small nicks of the sort, but when it wasn't, his aura would enable him to heal fairly quickly. Now, though, these marks were going to stay there. He might even end up with scars from them.

Tucking his ragged hands into his pockets, he glanced at Ilya to find her also studying her hands. He almost snickered. She must've just been copying him, since such small wounds on her skin would have healed by then. He covered one of her hands with one of his own to get her attention.

"Come."

"Where are we going?"

Slightly impressed by the speed and fluency of her reply, he responded honestly, "I don't know. Wherever our feet take us, although…" Recalling the fortune Neon had written him, he decided, "we'll be heading east."

So they began to walk. They walked for days at a time, getting out of the cliff area after the first full 24 hour cycle. Once they reached a slew of trees, they finally stopped to rest before continuing on. As they went, Chrollo picked vegetation in passing and ate, only offering some for Ilya when she expressed curiosity towards some berries in his hand, although she didn't eat it. He figured it best to take the nutrients for himself, since there was so little of it, and the Ilya had never shown the need for sustenance.

In the middle of the third day, the two of them happened across a creek, which Chrollo stopped to drink from. After sipping his fill of water, the man set his coat and shirt aside and began to wash himself. His face and hair came first, unfortunately messing up his slicked back hair style, before he moved on to washing the sweat from his neck and chest. He was doing so when he chanced to glance up at Ilya.

The girl was back. The one from when she and Chrollo had went into town. How had they been found, all the way out here? What did the girl want? And why, of all the places, was she in the water?

Sighing, Chrollo ran his hands through her reflection to distort the image. Ilya jumped at the sight and snapped her eyes up to look at him. What...what had that been? He just put his hand through that girl! Did...that mean she wasn't real? Then what was she? Or was this just another thing that Chrollo could do that she couldn't?

"Look," he beckoned her, pointing to his own reflection. Her eyes widened, and he continued, "That's a reflection. Reflection. That's still me." He waved his hand to let her see the reflection move with him. Then he pointed to her reflection, which had returned with the stillness of the water. "And that is you, Ilya. It's what you look like."

She took in his words, her gaze switching between him and the two images of them in the water. So...no, she didn't get it exactly. She still wasn't sure whether the copies of them were real or fake, but…. She at least thought she understood that she controlled the one he'd called Ilya. So was it an extension of herself, sort of?

The harder she thought on it, the more it made sense. Maybe it was past understanding coming back to her, or maybe Chrollo's words were just sinking in slowly, but as she stood looking at her reflection, she began to understand that it was just an image of herself. She still wasn't fond of it, though. The sight of…herself…staring back was unsettling.

When Chrollo finished cleaning himself, he slipped back into his shirt and folded his coat to set aside. Then, he turned to Ilya. "You should clean yourself, too."

She wasn't in any better shape than him. Grime caked her skin where it was bare, and her clothes had certainly absorbed their fair share of sweat. In her hair, dirt and small bits of leaf were tangled.

She hadn't noticed, though. Even if she had, she likely would not have cared. Seeing her lack of reaction, Chrollo ordered her to sit and scooped water into his hands. He began with pouring the water over her hands.

At the feeling of the water, she stiffened. It was cold, slick...and it gave her an awful feeling. She resisted pulling her hands away since Chrollo didn't seem to have any ill intent, but her hands began to shake in his. Whether he noticed this or not, he continued, next plunging her hands into the stream.

The hair on her arms stood on end when he submerged her hands. Her blood ran cold, her fingers spazzed, and her inhale sounded sharply as she yanked back and clutched her hands to her chest. Her nails dug into her palms. The water...was bad. It was very bad. Looking at it, she knew it was harmless, but feeling it...feeling it frightened her. She couldn't stand it, not when she couldn't help but recoil from the feeling! Not when she couldn't breathe when it ran over her skin!

Chrollo watched silently as she worked to calm herself down, as her trembling slowly stopped. That made three things she was apparently afraid of, or, at least, she was highly uncomfortable with: Hisoka, her reflection, and water. Heights had seemed to bother her earlier, but only at first. She had appeared to forget her fear soon after she'd started climbing down the cliff.

He didn't force any part of her into the water after that, instead just brushing her down the best he could. As he went through her hair, her hands came up to help. She then began to comb her fingers through it on her own to rid it of knots, so he ceased his help and instead tied his coat around his waist using the sleeves. It was too hot to continue wearing for any longer, but he was loathed to abandon the coat. It was his favorite, after all. He had actually found it in Meteor City, and although it didn't anymore, when he first picked it up it had had the smell of home lingering on it. He hadn't grown attached to any other piece of clothing he found ever since the coat.

Ilya, he thought, hadn't seemed to have much of an attachment to any of her clothes. She clearly didn't mind the rips and filth her clothes had sustained from their walk, and she hadn't reacted at all when Shalnark had replaced the clothes they'd found her in. She was yet to display any sort of attachment, really, except the one she evidently had to him. Although, if it counted, she was quite possessive of her name.

When she was as clean as she was going to get without washing off, he told her to get back to her feet and they continued walking on. They could have strayed from the water, Chrollo being able to identify cardinal direction by the sun's position in the sky, but he kept by it for some time. He observed Ilya's reactions as they went. Despite the length of time they followed the stream, she never seemed to grow comfortable with it.

That reflection of hers wouldn't stop following her, and although she had realized that it did that by necessity, it spurred anxiety within her. The feeling of unease was worse because she was appearing in the water, it felt. She hated seeing what was apparently herself in the wavering surface. If she looked at it for prolonged periods of time, she would have trouble breathing. Only when she began to gasp would she break her eyes away and regain her breath before looking back. She stuck close to Chrollo, feeling somewhat safer when the distance between them was short. Chrollo was strong. He could protect her. For whatever she was afraid of happening, if it happened, he could stop it.

The curiosity crossed Chrollo's mind as they walked as to what it was, precisely, that she feared. Yes, she was adverse to her reflection, and yes she seemed terrified of water, but why? What could an immortal girl possibly have to be afraid of?

So he asked her, "Do you fear death?"

Death? ….That was a difficult question. She understood it, but….death. What was death? The more she contemplated the word, the heavier her chest seemed to get. She rubbed the painful area over her heart as a chilling cold washed over her. She couldn't come up with a definition for 'death', but the more time that passed, the more the simple feelings she was experiencing began to attach themselves to the word.

Her reply, with a shaky breath, was, "Yes."

He thought about this, then went on. "Then, do you know what death is?"

She knew, knew that it was the cold and the weight she felt, but she got the feeling that _he_ would be unable to tell her what it was. In a voice barely above a whisper, she inquired, "Do you?"

He hadn't expected a question in response, and such a heavy one it was. Did he know what death was? Of course not. He had never experienced it. He had come close, but he assumed that the rush of brushing past death would be nothing like the experience of death itself. So no, he didn't know. Instead of disappointing her like that, however, he replied,

"We'll all know death eventually. It's simply a matter of life."

* * *

I feel like I haven't asked in awhile, so I'm gonna ask: do you guys have any guesses as to her background? Someone said they suspect her to be connected to Leorio, which was interesting. But any guesses as to why she's scared of what she's scared of? And what about her memories? And do they intertwine? All of this will be answered, but until they are, I'm curious as to your guesses. I can't wait to hear from you!

Till then, Kisses from SnowyNeko! :3 MEOW!


	10. Chapter 10

So my little sister has animal crossing new leaf, and I have an account on it. She's the mayor, and I play the role of the disruptive citizen trying to raise a rebellion. We keep leaving messages on the bulletin board dissing each other, and it's honestly hilarious. It makes the game so much better! And then there's my brother, who just goes around and gets rich on that game... He's playing it right, but I think we're having way more fun.

Anywho, I present to you chapter ten.

* * *

After many days and many nights, the two of them finally reached civilization. A town, larger than a village, but notably smaller than a city. The first thing that Chrollo did was search out a place to stay. It's not like he had money, but he merely had to pickpocket a few unsuspecting passersby until he could come up with a handful of bills. All the way through the wilderness, his lack of Nen had been somewhat inconvenient, but only now did he truly long to be able to use it again. Particularly, he wanted back his ability to use Zetsu. He and Ilya were drawing too many eyes with their scruffed up appearances.

When they entered their room, he immediately discarded his coat on the bed and went to wash his face. Without a brush, all he could do was drag his finger through his hair until it looked somewhat less like a rat's nest.

Ilya waited outside the bathroom, seating herself softly on the room's single bed. When she heard the sound of rushing water, it took her a minute to figure out what it was. A shower.

Words had been coming back to her quicker now. Every night, she would awake from a dream with a graduated understanding of how to speak, and what normal things were. It wasn't like she could debate in depth with anyone, but surface level conversations were now possible. She realized, however, that she was far from adept at language. As Chrollo took his shower, Ilya spoke to herself, running through things that had happened since they'd arrived in town.

She was repeating the directions to the inn that they had received from a townsperson when her fingers brushed absently against Chrollo's coat. Her words slowly got quieter as she gazed at it, until she faded into silence. She ran her fingers over the white fur lining the inside of the clothing piece, smiling. It was soft, and fluffy! She really hadn't gotten the chance to touch it very often, but the more she did it, the more she liked it.

She shifted it into her lap, running both of her hands through the fluff. Then she stopped, glancing from the coat to the bathroom door. Would he mind if...no, surely he wouldn't. She'd never seen him get mad, anyway. Still, it was with caution that she slipped her own arms through the coat's armholes. Oh, it felt amazing! She could see why he wore it so much! And as a bonus, it was still warm from when he had been wearing it. She snuggled into it and laid back on the bed, nuzzling the fur by her nose.

 _Achoo!_

She paused, then giggled at the sound of her sneeze. Then she paused again. She had laughed. When was the last time she'd done that? She couldn't recall. No, wait. She had done it before, in those dreams of hers. It was so natural, though. Why hadn't she ever done it awake until now? For some reason, the thought displeased her.

She groaned and turned her face completely into the fluff. Although she hadn't meant it when she'd put on the coat, the comfort of it around her soon lulled her into the abyss of sleep.

Chrollo came out soon after, redressed after his shower and drying his hair, when he saw her and stopped. Still rubbing the towel against his head, he watched as she quietly clutched his coat around her. He couldn't help but smile. He had been planning on cleaning her up since they no longer had to move about, but that could wait until she woke up. No need to bother her.

Then...a presence. A presence that shouldn't have been where it was. He had to stop himself from reaching out with En, very nearly slipping up and killing himself. Throwing the towel aside, he rushed to the window and searched. Sure enough, the back of a familiar figure was disappearing down the block. With a quick glance back at Ilya, who was unconscious and undisturbed on the bed, he flew from the room and out of the inn, tying around his head the bandage he kept with him to cover the cross on his forehead. It was a pain to keep track of the person since he couldn't use his Nen, but to add acid to the cut, his target was in a near state of Zetsu. On multiple occasions he lost the aura in the crowd, only to briefly pick it up again when he darted forward. After awhile, the destination of his target was clear.

He followed her into the old factory, which he deemed to have long been shut down and abandoned. Hinges were rusted, cobwebs scattered for decor, and dust coated everything like a fine polish. He trailed after her and emerged into a large room, with motionless, falling apart machines. It was there that he lost her trail.

He didn't breathe. Holding his breath, he listened for the faintest trace of footsteps. He didn't hear them, though, until they were a mere few feet behind him. Whirling, he grabbed the blade that she had been aiming for his heart. She lept back immediately and sunk into the shadows, but not before he had identified her face. He had been right, it was the same presence. But how could it be her?

"Who hired you?" she hissed, her silhouette crouched and ready to dash at a single wrong note.

"No one," he answered in truth.

"Why are you following me?"

"Because I recognized you."

He didn't miss it when her breathing momentarily hitched. "Who are you?"

"My friends call me Boss."

"Boss?" He didn't move as she contemplated this, well aware that she'd flee if he so much as began to take a step towards her. " _You're_ the boss? Not an underling?"

"Correct."

"That doesn't make any sense," she refuted.

"I answered your question," Chrollo started, "so I'll return it. What do they call you?" She stayed silent, so he went ahead and asked, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but is your name, by any chance, Ilya?"

A glint of light indicated she'd drawn another dagger. "How," she growled, "do you know that?"

He kept his disbelief off his face, but even though it was hard to take in, he'd expected it to be true. She was Ilya. She wasn't the Ilya Feitan and Phinx had found in Yorknew, but she had the same appearance, the same aura, and the same name. A doppleganger. And this one was seemingly much more versed in the ways of the world. As he thought about it, it seemed much more likely that his Ilya was the fake. She, after all, was the one who lacked memories, who had to learn even the most basic of things from the ground up. It would also make sense as to why her fortune was able to be read, because if she was a copy, it's entirely possible that the date of her creation actually was the thirteenth of April last year.

"I told you," he replied. "I recognized you."

"Where from?" she demanded.

That was complicated. "I can't say."

" _Tell me_!"

"I won't."

"Then die!"

The words weren't even entirely out of her mouth before she lunged. As he'd thought, she only had a single knife since he'd taken her other. He flipped the weapon in his hand to clutch the handle instead of the blade and blocked, swinging her arm away along with the attacking knife. She persisted, though, as slippery as a snake as she struck at him from every imaginable angle. She couldn't force him to move an inch, but her attacks made it clear to him that she was a veteran fighter. In total, he counted fifteen feints and sixteen jabs that would have been lethal hand he let them land. And that wasn't counting all the attempts she made at disarming him, or disabling him.

What's more was that she had endurance. She never began to pant, her limbs never slipping in exhaustion. A curiosity crossed him, and while he was blocking one of her attacks, he swiped his arm forward.

The knife sliced her skin as he'd meant it to, and only then did she retreat. However, her reason clearly wasn't pain. She gaped at her bleeding arm, then glared up at Chrollo with rage in her eyes. It wasn't her reaction he'd wanted to see, though. It was the way that her arm's skin wrapped itself over to cover the break in the skin. It was to see the blood that stained the blade in his hand slip off the metal and swim across the floor to return to its body. Just like the Ilya he knew, her body was immortal.

He'd also noticed, while they fought, that she never once used Nen. Her aura had remained dormant, only fluctuating slightly towards Zetsu when she tried to hide, and growing gradually aggravated when she attacked. Like his Ilya, she couldn't properly wield her Nen. Perhaps she had never been taught, but if that were the case, her aura should have responded more dramatically to her emotions. Her aura should have surged with her anger, and when she was trying to hide her presence, she behaved like someone who'd gone entirely into Zetsu. And yet, she wasn't. It was like her aura resisted her command, or perhaps, wouldn't listen to her at all. Perhaps it merely reacted mutedly to its holder's state of being. Perhaps it couldn't be wielded, because it wouldn't listen. That seemed to sound right, because it would explain why Ilya would never repeat whatever he did with his Nen despite the fact that she was able to see it. This was new. He'd never seen someone unable to learn their own aura before.

This Ilya bared her teeth and positioned to launch another attack. A quick rundown of the facts, though, had Chrollo frown at the idea of continuing. Right now, he couldn't fight her or restrain her with his Nen, and she was immortal. She would never get tired unless it was to sleep, and no one like him or like her could relax enough to sleep with someone hostile about. Although his Ilya slept regularly, he didn't know how long this one could last. If he was unlucky, she would be able to last longer than him.

So he fled.

He was quicker than her, and slyer, too, so it wasn't long before he'd lost her. He returned to the inn only after wandering, and triple checking that she wasn't following after him. When he reached the room he and Ilya had reserved, he found his Ilya, still inside his coat, still sleeping soundly.

Closing the door softly behind him, he went and shook her.

She smiled, playfully pushing his hand aside in her sleep and moaning, "A little longer."

"Ilya?"

Her lips twitched, and her smile faded. She cracked open her eyes to find Chrollo standing beside the bed, peering down a her. Somehow, she had expected someone else. She then realized the fluffiness surrounding her. Eyes wide, she rushed to slip out of his coat and shove it back in his hands. He accepted it, a little startled by her sudden reaction.

"Sorry," she grumbled. "I...I like it." She cringed at her words. It was true, she was fond of his coat, but even she could recognize the poor excuse when she heard it.

He brought the crook of his finger to his lips, letting a huff of laughter escape him before recomposing himself. "That's fine," he assured her, setting the coat aside. "Let's get you cleaned up so we can go get something to eat."

* * *

Wow, so, okay. There were a _lot_ of hints in this chapter. A doppelganger, strange Nen...what do you make of it? Does it support your suspicions, or have you had to adjust your theory? I can't wait to hear what you think, because things are going to be getting...a little strange from now on.

Till then, Kisses from SnowyNeko! :3 MEOW!


	11. Chapter 11

Hi guys! What's up? What to talk about today... How about fashion? I think I've touched on this topic a few times in my past stories, but it's been awhile. I actually like designing clothes. I have this whole sketchbook full of outfit ideas, but the biggest problem is that I really am not into sewing. As much as I adore my bestie, I think it would be super cool if I had a best friend who loved to sew, because then we could create whole closets personalized to us! A totally unique wardrobe! Anyway, whenever I draw any of my OC characters, which I do a lot, I always flip through that sketchbook looking for something I feel would suit them. I haven't done that for Ilya, yet... I feel like she'd be difficult to find an outfit for.

Meh, that's not important, though. Onto the story!

* * *

Chrollo ordered her dinner for her. He'd brought the two of them to the best restaurant in town, a well deserved indulgence after being stuck in the wild for over a week. It wouldn't have been that long, except for the fact that Ilya couldn't keep pace with him when he ran. He had had to trek at her pace, and as a result, it'd been too long since he'd last had a decent meal.

When the dish came out, she simply stared at it until she saw Chrollo begin digging into his. With a shock, she realized what was in front of her was food, and the thought shook her.

 _Food_! When was the last time she'd eaten food? She'd watched the Troupe eat, but when was the last time she herself had eaten? She couldn't put her finger on exactly why, but she felt something was wrong. She felt she should have to eat, but if that were the case, why hadn't she eaten until now?

Her companion watched with an attentive eye as she gradually lifted the fork to her mouth. Flavor was like an electric jolt on her tongue, the intensity stirring memory upon memory of her eating. Immediately, she removed the fork from her mouth and placed it beside the plate, clenching her hands in her lap.

"You don't like it?" Chrollo inquired.

"No," she muttered, giving a slight shake of her head.

Chrollo helped himself to a spoonful of her ziti. To him, it tasted just fine. Maybe she didn't like the cheese? "What is it you don't like?"

What was it? She knew it was the memories. She hated the overwhelming feeling that crashed over her when she tasted food again for the first time in….well, since she'd first woken up. She hated the fact that she felt that there was something wrong. Despite not knowing precisely what it was, she felt there was something extraordinarily wrong with the fact that she hadn't eaten at all until now. How could she explain all of that to him? She frowned in thought, and Chrollo continued to eat his own meal.

"Too complicated?" he asked a couple bites later.

"Yes."

"We'll take it to go, then." He summoned the waiter and requested her to pack Ilya's pasta to go. While that was being done, he finished off his food and paid the check with pickpocketed money. Once that was done, he motioned for her to follow him out.

"Excuse me!"

Chrollo didn't pause despite knowing the voice was being directed at him. He continued to usher Ilya out the door, but once they were outside, the voice called again, "You, the lady with the man with the bandage around his forehead!"

He still wouldn't have stopped, except for the fact that the person had evidently been addressing not him, but _Ilya_. So he stopped, and she stopped, and they both turned to find who had spoken.

A middle-aged gentleman in a fine suit caught his breath as he caught up to them, straightening out his outfit and slicking back his hair with a smile. "It's lovely to see you again, Ilya. I do believe it's been an entire month since you last visited!" She didn't recognize the him. With a concerned glance at Chrollo, she apologized to the man. "Oh, it's not a problem! After all, you can fix it with a visit tonight! It's not necessary for you to always be following around your boss. Ah, I suppose he's more of a father to you, isn't he? But regardless, it might be nice to come visit on business of your own, rather than accompanying him. What do you say you come over for dessert?"

Before Ilya could attempt to explain her confusion, Chrollo spoke up. "I'm sorry, but who might you be?"

"My name is Alandro Handel," he introduced, shaking Chrollo's hand even though Chrollo had not extended it. "And you are…?"

"You can call me Luce. And I'm afraid I must point out that, despite how valuable a name is, it does tell me nothing about who you are in relation to Ilya."

Alandro smiled. "Luce? What an unusual name! Might it be short for something?"

"It could be."

"Haha! A man of mystery, I see! How very like you, Ilya! What fascinating company you keep! Oh, but I suppose I should ask," the man went on as if Chrollo hadn't asked first, "what is your relation, Luce, to the lovely Ilya?"

Ilya blinked when Chrollo suddenly snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her to him, his face resting close to hers. When she'd processed what he had just done, she slowly turned her face to look at him. He wasn't looking at her, but instead at the man as he said, "I happen to be her lover."

The two went on, but Ilya never looked away from the dark haired man holding her. She was slow to comprehend his words, but afterwards quick to bite down embarrassment. As she swallowed the awkward feeling, a face flashed behind her eyes again. Blurred, always blurry, but always the same. It was always that same man!

"Well, I would invite you as well, Luce, but I'm afraid my chef might not have enough ingredients for _two_ extra people. But what do you say, Ilya? Dessert tonight is chocolate crepes!"

"Chrollo," she murmured, tugging on his sleeve. "I want to go back."

"It seems the invitation will have to wait for another time," Chrollo told the man, taking the hand on his shirt in his. "Maybe another day, when she's not tired."

"I see, I see. I'll see you around, then, Ilya."

Chrollo lead her back to the room. When they arrived, he asked, "Did you know who that was?"

"No."

He believed her. As of yet, she hadn't lied once, and he doubted she would lie about this. If his simple trust in her wasn't enough, her eyebrows furrowed in deep thought was also convincing evidence.

No, she hadn't known that man. He'd called himself Alandro, but she felt nothing. He didn't stir any nostalgia from her, and no memories of him or his name had grown clear. But then why had he known her name? She hadn't told him. Why...did he think he knew her? And if she had understood things correctly, he had also said he'd seen her a month ago. Well, she certainly hadn't seen him.

Chrollo was also lost in thought. His concern didn't surround the man they'd met, but Ilya instead. She didn't know, or seem to have any vague recollection of Alandro. That meant he was familiar with the other Ilya, the one he'd met at the factory, and that they must have met after his Ilya had been created. He was becoming more and more convinced that the girl with him was a clone; It just seemed to be what all the signs pointed to. The only thing he couldn't quite figure out, though, was how it was done. It wasn't an easy thing to clone a person, and both his Ilya and the other Ilya had unstable and unusable auras. Perhaps that type of dysfunction was a consequence of the cloning process, but he had never heard of anything like that. Usually, the person attempting either succeeded with great effort and got perfect results, or they died in the process of trying. And then there was the fact that the Ilya he met had been confused as to why he recognized her. If that Ilya had created a clone and then lost her, she would have concluded that a man she'd never met recognizing her must mean that he'd happened across the clone. She hadn't come to that conclusion, though.

Was it possible, then, to have made a clone by mistake? He had never heard of such a thing, and he couldn't imagine it being done, but maybe….could it be possible? Or was it that someone else made the clone? But was it possible to clone someone other than yourself? He didn't think so, not completely. Maybe, though, someone's interference was the cause of their unstable Nen.

"I don't like this," Ilya suddenly groaned, lifting her head to look at him.

"Can you explain what it is you don't like?"

She pondered this, and eventually came up with the question, "Chrollo….am I...weird?"

"Weird?" Usually her words were pretty predictable, but every now and again, she'd say something like this. "Why would you think that?"

"He," she began, referring to Alandro, "knew me, but I did not him. Should I have? And why have I not eaten before? There is something wrong with that, yes? And…" The next thing she wanted to point out, she wasn't quite sure of. Actually, she didn't even know what it was. After wracking her brain for a way to explain, she held out her hand and requested, "Your arm."

"My arm?" When she kept her hand out and waiting, he suddenly understood and settled his arm in her hand. For a minute, she glanced around, but then she huffed and brought her attention back to his arm. When she lifted the nail of her other hand to his skin, he figured out what she was doing. Still, he let her swipe the nail sharply above his wrist. When blood began to seep, she let her hand drop. And she watched. Both of them watched as nothing happened. Ilya grew increasingly disturbed, though, to the point where she eventually did the same to her own arm, and, releasing him, held her sliced arm next to his. As usual, the cut closed within the minute.

Voice trembling, she asked, " _Why_?"

"Why does my arm not heal?"

"No. Why does _mine heal_?" As she stared at their arms, it suddenly made sense. This must have been why everyone seemed so interested in her. Chrollo, even being as amazing as he was, wasn't able to heal so quickly. She could. If he of all people couldn't do it, that meant that she was the odd one. Why was she so odd? The more the thought about it, more things appeared that didn't seem to line up. As she thought, she became able to answer one of her own questions for the first time. She was definitely weird.

Chrollo examined her expression as she stared him down intently in anticipation of an answer. Honestly, he didn't know how to explain. Should he tell her that she was probably a clone? She probably wouldn't understand what a clone even was. Well, he could tell her that it was sort of like a reflection….but he could only imagine how she would take that, being told that _she_ was a reflection when she despised her own reflection so much. And besides, although the evidence was strong, he had yet to confirm that theory.

Even if he did find a way to explain it all so she'd understand, it didn't really answer her question about her healing abilities. He himself was still pondering that mystery. It'd be pointless to explain his suspicions to her when it wouldn't even answer her question.

All he could do was give the honest response, "I don't know," which she obviously was not content with. For the rest of the night before they went to sleep, her usual expression of either blankness, curiosity, or fear was distorted into one of dissatisfaction and irritation. So, as they prepared to sleep, Chrollo decided he could go without that night. Instead of sleeping, he would go out and see if he could find any answers. After all, this town seemed to be hiding some.

So he waited for Ilya to drift off. Once he was sure she had, he left.

* * *

Poor Ilya. Really, she'd been pretty blank until now. Sure she's cried a few times, sure she's been frustrated, but I feel like this chapter is where we really start to see into Ilya's character. Am I alone on that? It's just that she's finally figuring out what's going on with her, and is becoming aware of her surroundings quite a bit more than before. Writing about the whole transition from a blank slate to a developed character is actually really interesting for me, so I can only hope that it's the same for you guys. What do you think? I'll be eagerly waiting to hear from you guys!

Till then, Kisses from SnowyNeko! :3 MEOW!


	12. Chapter 12

This chapter is a little short, but forgive me for that. In return, what happens here is pretty significant. The pacing, also, is starting to change. Whereas the first bunch of chapters took place over a few days with large gaps of time, hours to full nights, in between chapters the occurrences coming are going to begin to occur closer together. Maybe it's because we're climbing a little closer to the climax? Who knows? At least, that's my prediction. I can't say for certain because I haven't written that far ahead, yet.

Now, shall we get to the story?

* * *

 _Everything was...cold. And heavy. So much weight….and so little light. And it was getting darker, too. Why was it getting darker? And why was she so chilled? She couldn't move under the weight, and it was getting heavier as the world got darker. Then it was black, and her last ounce of strength slipped through her lips and floated far, far away._

Ilya awoke gasping, her eyes snapping open wide. She clutched at her chest as she gulped down air. Shaking, she stretched out a quivering hand in search of something, someone. There was no one. Her searching hand grew frantic, moving faster when it didn't collide with anyone. They weren't there! He wasn't….Chrollo wasn't…

Trembling, she pushed herself upright. When she'd fallen asleep, she had been sure he was next to her. There wasn't another bed in the room, after all. But now, she was alone. He wasn't in the room. There was enough moonlight coming in through the window for her to tell that, at least. The door to the bathroom was open, the lights off, but she still went and checked. Where was he? Why wasn't he here?

She stood frozen in the middle of the room. What...what was she supposed to do? Should she go back to sleep? That seemed like her only option, but she couldn't! Not after a dream like that! Whenever she thought about it, the awful feelings from it washed over her like ice water, consuming her. She needed someone, someone she could grab onto and feel safe with, but where was Chrollo? Where had he gone? As her breathing and heart rate increased, tears began to gather in her eyes. And then she stopped breathing altogether.

Her body compensated for it, preventing her from growing dizzy, but it still wasn't long before she returned to gasping. It felt too horrible to keep holding her breath!

She was just about ready to collapse when the window suddenly shattered. She stumbled backwards in shock, tripping onto the bed. A person's silhouette straightened among the shards of glass, outlined by the moon, and once again, Ilya stopped breathing. This time, though, she didn't notice. There wasn't much light for her to make out the features on the face, but it was too familiar for her not to recognize. And it made her blood run cold.

The girl had also frozen in place, staring at her wide-eyed. The two of them gawked at each other, time standing still as they took in the sight of the other. It was the intruder who gathered herself first.

"Who are you?"

Gulping, Ilya gave her her name.

"Liar! Who are you, really?"

"I...Ilya!"

"Fine, forget it! Where is Luce? He should have been in this room!"

Luce? Did she mean Chrollo? "He...isn't here."

"I can see that!" the girl growled. "Where the fuck is he?" When Ilya shook her head, the girl grabbed her own head in frustration. Her eyes flew about in thought, until she finally glared at Ilya. "You, to your feet! You're coming with me."

When Ilya didn't move, she stormed forward and grabbed her arm to yank her up. Dragging her to the broken window, she shoved Ilya out. Ilya was barely able to grab onto the windowsill and keep herself from falling. She hadn't thought to do it, so much as she'd done it instinctively, but it wasn't falling that terrified her. It was the girl who'd pushed her out.

Said girl climbed out the window after her, grabbed Ilya around the waist, and jumped down with her in tow. When Ilya let out a shriek, she backhanded her cheek hard enough to make it sting red. On the ground, Ilya was released only to be grabbed this time by the arm, and was thus dragged away from the inn.

What was going on? Why was this girl….and why was she taking her? Where was she taking her? She couldn't help but feel that she needed to wrench away. She needed to go back! What if Chrollo came back? How was he supposed to find her if she left? But she couldn't bring herself to pull away. Even now that she'd begun to think for herself, Ilya was still in the unfortunate habit of obeying whatever she was lead to do.

So the mysterious girl pulled her through the empty streets, all the way to a large home surrounded by tall iron fencing. The girl pressed a button outside the gate, a click sounding not even five seconds later. She then pulled open the gate and jerked Ilya inside, following after her and closing the gate behind them.

An old maid opened the front door, only to gasp at the two of them. "I-Ilya?"

"Go fetch Mr. Welton."

"T-The boss is asleep right now, so-"

The girl slapped Ilya's arm, still addressing the woman. "Can't you see this is an emergency?"

"I'll go get him," the woman consented, nodding shakily before taking off up the stairs. As the girl pulled Ilya inside, the lighting finally provided Ilya a full view of her face. The sight brought her hands to cover her mouth in disbelief.

The two once again stopped to stare at one another, each a perfect replica of the other in every aspect of their appearance. It was beyond the similarity of identical twins. No, there wasn't a cell of a difference between them. And the sight made Ilya sick to the stomach.

"I'll ask you again," the human reflection began. "Who. Are. You."

Ilya didn't hear her, instead responding with, "Why...why are you me?"

Gritting her teeth, the girl once again began dragging her. When they reached a large sitting room, one with a grand fireplace and an antlered animal head hanging proudly above it, the girl shoved Ilya into a chair. Then she crossed her arms and looked to the door, waiting.

It wasn't long before that door swung open, and a brunette man dressed sloppily in a nightgown stepped into the room. Despite his ruffled appearance, he held himself with dignity, as if he was wearing the finest suit and top hat. He paused when he saw the two girls before him. The only thing to be heard was the door clicking shut behind him. Ilya's copy broke the motionless scene when she placed her hand over her heart and bowed to the older man. He nodded to her an acknowledgement, then sighed.

"Well, isn't this...something."

"I found her at the Radnal Inn while I was...in pursuit of a separate curiosity," she reported. "I'm sure you can see why I was unsettled. I was hoping maybe you would know something about this."

The man rubbed the the stubble on his chin in thought. Once he'd turned it over a few times in his mind, he asked Ilya, "Your name?"

She gave it.

"I expected as much," he nodded, mostly to himself. "Where did you come from, Ilya?"

Um….she didn't know. She had come out of the forest, but she had an inkling that he meant what city. And she never learnt the name of the city she had found the Phantom Troupe in. So she stayed silent.

Seeing this, the man changed his question. "How much can you speak?"

"Enough."

"Enough, huh? Who taught you how to speak?"

Again, she kept quiet. Her automatic response would be Chrollo, but she had figured out during the time it'd taken for her clone to drag her here that 'Luce' was probably an alias, meaning Chrollo didn't want his real name spoken. And besides, Shalnark had also taught her to speak. All of this made answering too complicated, so she simply...didn't.

"I don't like this," the reflection frowned.

The man inquired, "Why?"

"Why? Why do you think!?"

"She certainly looks like you, but she also's acting quite a bit like you did, awhile back. Does she remind you of your lack of a past?"

"Shut up."

" _Language_. I'm right on the mark, aren't I?"

"Please, sir. Leave it alone."

"That's a good girl." He patted her on the head. She glared back, but let him do it, nonetheless. All the while, Ilya sat without a word and tried to absorb everything she could. Clearly these two got along, but she felt a clear feeling of dominance from the man. She was...did she perhaps work for him? And what was he saying, that they acted alike? Clearly, this image of her was much more learnt than she was. It was actually a tad irritating, to think of how well this copy of her managed to function. She was Ilya, not that girl, so why did that girl seem to have so much more than her?

"Well, for now, bring her to a room. Stay with her and watch tonight, and tomorrow we'll clear things up more, alright?"

"Sir," the girl resisted, her tone deep, "if you know anything about this, I implore you to tell me now. You know full well I have no memories prior to last year, and you were the one who came looking for me. Surely, you know something about this."

"It's possible I might know something," he admitted. "However, it is late, and I am tired. It won't hurt us to wait until morning to sort everything out, now, will it?" When she didn't refute this, he went on, "Hurry along, then. You should know I prize my sleep."

So the girl grabbed Ilya's arm once more, and began yanking her out of the room. Down the hall they went, until the girl slammed open a door and shoved Ilya onto the bed inside. Then she shut the door, and the two of them were alone.

"Go to sleep," she ordered.

Ilya couldn't. She couldn't even try. Not after the nightmare she'd had, not after being stolen away from the person she looked to for safety. Not after she had come face to face with the eerie personification of the reflection she loathed so much. And to add lemon juice to the cut, she was beginning to feel as if this, coming face to face with a her that was someone else entirely, was something that had happened before.

It was a long night, because the other girl never slept, either. Why? Maybe it was just because she had been ordered to watch. Or, maybe, it was because the same sort of things haunted her mind, too.

* * *

And they come face to face. Just imagine how unnerving that would be if that happened to you! Anyway, someone finally gave a description of how they imagine Ilya! YIPPEE! Victory! I always do this for my stories, where I leave out the physical description and ask for your guys' visualization, but every time I do it I worry that no one will respond. So thank you, HeroSeekerFrost. Thank you for being the first on this story. Can I hope to hear more from you guys before the next chapter? *wink wink nudge nudge*

Till then, Kisses from SnowyNeko! :3 MEOW!


	13. Chapter 13

So there's this summer class I'm taking over the summer. I'm taking it because its mandatory, and because I want to get it over with, but it still pisses me off. The content is both useless and biased, and my time would be much better spent elsewhere. There's so much of that screwy content, too! Too much! And it's all do before the end of this month. It's true, I've been procrastinating on it, but literally nothing good comes out of doing the work! Argh! I hate it!

Venting complete, read away.

* * *

A knock at the door finally broke the staredown between the two twins. Ilya startled at the sound, realizing suddenly that the sun had risen outside the room's window. The other girl's eyes went to the door, where the same man as last night was entering. He was much more presentable this time. Instead of a rumpled nightie, he wore black pants and a gray button down shirt, and his brown hair had clearly had a brush run through it.

"Did you sleep well?" he questioned with a friendly smile.

"Now a wink," the girl replied blandly.

He blinked. "Neither one of you?" To the Ilya on the bed, he asked, "Was the room not to your liking?"

She considered her answer. She hadn't necessarily disliked the room, but it's true that she hadn't been able to sleep in it, either. Actually, she hadn't really thought about whether or not she liked the room. The man began to speak again, though, before she could form her thoughts into words.

"I'm sorry about that. Tonight, I'll be sure to provide a different room, but for now you should both come down for breakfast. I'm sure the chef has prepared the meal by now."

When Ilya didn't move, the girl grabbed her arm and jerked her off the bed, growling. "Don't ignore him when he's talking to you."

"Now, now," he chided. "She is a guest, so please, treat her well. Keep your temper in check, understand?"

The girl fell silent, turning away and giving a reluctant nod. She didn't release Ilya, though, as she dragged her through the house to the dining room. She didn't let her go until she'd forced her into a seat, and taken a seat herself. The table was long, but the three of them sat in the middle. To an outsider's eye, it would have been an eerie sight to see two of the same person sitting next to each other, but the man sitting across from them appeared unfazed.

The chef himself brought out the dishes, doing a doubletake when he saw the dopplegangers. Judging it better to ignore it, though, he kept his mouth shut and served the food as usual. Once that was done, the man invited the girls to dig in.

Only the obedient one began to eat. The other Ilya didn't move. Food disturbed her, she'd decided. She had not liked the odd sensation when she'd been with Chrollo, so she was highly unlikely to engage in eating when he wasn't even around. It bothered her, of course, that she didn't have to eat, but if she ignored food altogether, it seemed she was able to ignore that fact better. So she didn't touch the food in front of her.

Of course, this infuriated the girl next to her, who stabbed the food on Ilya's plate with her fork and hissed, "First you ignore his concern, then you don't eat his food. How disrespectful can you get? Eat!"

" _Ilya._ "

The girl stiffened. Then, slowly, she dislodged her fork and returned to eating her own food. Ilya had bristled just as much, but she didn't relax even when the girl did. He had just used her name. He'd used her name, but he'd been talking to the reflection beside her. Her stomach twisted at the realization. But... _she_ was Ilya! Herself! That...that girl...why…?

Despite having nothing in her stomach, she swore she felt bile clogging her throat.

"So," the man began, ignoring the fact that Ilya hadn't touched her plate, "tell me about you, Ilya. Hobbies, lifestyle, what brought you to town...tell me everything!"

"Why...do you want to know?"

He laughed. "So suspicious! Ah, well, pardon me. That's my fault, since I haven't properly introduced myself. The name's Joseph Welton. You're free to call me by my first or last name, whatever you prefer. I own quite a few of the businesses in this town, as well as a few in some other towns, but I take none of the credit. After all, I inherited this position from my father, and him from Grandfather. Now, what about you?"

"I...there isn't much to tell."

"Oh, surely there is!"

"There isn't." The girl next to her had her fists clenched in anger, but this time, managed to withhold lashing out.

"Hm… If there truly isn't anything to say, I suppose I'll just have to ask you instead," he decided, turning his head to the girl. "You said you happened across her. Would you tell me the story about that?"

"I ran into Mr. Handel late last night. He wondered what had happened to the boy I was with, and had asked why I was still up when I'd gone back to sleep. The thing is, I hadn't seen him yesterday before then, and I certainly hadn't been with anyone. So I decided to track the man he'd called Luce, who he said I'd been with, and I found her, instead."

"A man named Luce, huh?" Mr. Welton pondered. After a minute, he asked Ilya, "Is he a companion of yours? Perhaps, should we invite him over?"

She stayed silent.

"Regardless," the girl broke the silence, "why is she me? You know something, don't you?"

"Ah, yes, I promised you we'd talk today, didn't I?" He set down his fork and folded his hands before him. "Are you finished eating? If you are, I have something to show you."

Immediately, she discarded her eating utensil and said, "I'm finished."

"Follow me, then," he ordered, standing. "Both of you."

This time, Ilya stood up on her own, mostly to keep the girl from dragging her around again. While it wasn't particularly detrimental, the way this girl treated her like a dog on a leash was somewhat annoying. Still, as they walked through the hallways, she could feel her eyes bore into her from behind. The more she was around this girl, the more she was itching to get away from her. It was like her reflection, but worse. This girl didn't need a reflective surface to haunt her. She yearned to do something about it, but what was there to do?

She wondered as they walked if this girl was truly like her in every way. It sure seemed like it, other than the fact that this girl clearly was more well versed in living and communicating. She also seemed unable to contain her anger very well. Other than that, though, they were so, so similar. Identical in both appearance and distaste for each other. And name.

Then she wondered, "Are you immortal?"

It was the first time she'd spoken without prompting since she'd arrived, and the content of the question captured the attention of both of the people she was with. The girl behind her didn't respond. Instead, she gradually moved to remove a dagger from a slit in her pant leg. Then, without warning, she stabbed it into her own arm without flinching. When she drew it out, she offered it to Ilya. Somehow understanding her intent, Ilya accepted the knife and did the same thing to her own arm. Then, all three of them watched as both wounds sealed over as if they never existed. The girl then snatched the knife back from Ilya and replaced it where she'd taken it from, and they all continued walking as if nothing had happened.

The basement; that's where they were headed. They came to a door on the first floor, which opened to a staircase descending into darkness. Then the man flicked on the lights, and they began their way downwards. From the way the girl's gaze was darting about, Ilya began to suspect that it was her first time being down here, too.

The stairwell turned once, and then they reached the bottom. It was just a hallway, as normal as the one they'd been walking in aboveground. This time, though, they stopped and stood outside one of the doors. Mr. Welton pivoted to face them.

"Now," he began, "I've had this room ever since I first found you." He was referring to the girl. "As you suspect, it does have to do with your past. While it doesn't explain your healing abilities, it does explain your doppelganger, as well as your lack of memories. Truly, I wished I would never have to show this to you, but I suppose it was inevitable. I expect," this time he looked towards Ilya, "it will answer your questions, as well, although I can do nothing to prepare you for what's behind this door."

"We get it," the girl insisted. "Just open it!"

"Is that how you ask?"

"Please!"

His lips turned upwards in a cocky smirk, he turned the doorknob. "Good girl."

It was pitch black, the room. Mr. Welton stepped back and motioned for the two twins to enter before him, which the girl readily complied to. Ilya, on the other hand, moved much slower, but move she did. And when they were both in the room, Mr. Welton stepped in and felt along the wall for a lightswitch.

The bulb overhead flickered to life.

Ilya doubled over, clutching her stomach that threatened to twist until it popped, but she still couldn't look away from the sight before her. It...was like a museum display, all about her. Body parts matching her own lay strewn throughout the room. There was a leg there, and arm over there, a hand with fingers that matched her own. The problem was that they weren't models. No, they were real, and somehow they were alive. They couldn't move without a body, but she could see the slight shaking of a heartbeat as blood coursed through the severed limbs. Hell, she could practically _hear_ the thumping! And it was in synch with her own. Still, this wasn't the part that had her feeling sick.

It was the heads.

There was a row of heads, her head, all with glassy eyes trained on her. And they were blinking. And all of it was familiar. So disgustingly familiar, she was sure she had seen it all before. And the more of the scene that she drank in, the clearer it was when she'd seen it.

It hadn't been in this room, but the workshop. The workshop she'd woken up in on April thirteenth of the previous year.

"W-What…" She remembered the girl next to her only when she began sputtering. "What...the hell…?"

Mr. Welton sighed. "I told you, I didn't want to show you. I knew it'd burden your poor, young heart like this. But you insisted, and after you brought me another completed version, I just couldn't keep hiding it."

This time, Ilya beat the girl to the question. "What do you mean….completed?"

"Patience, my girls," he chided. "Have a seat, on the ground or in a chair, because it's a lot to take in. I know, I've been dreading this day since I first took you in, Ilya, and it was hard enough keeping the truth from one you. How could I possibly hide everything from two? But, well, the time has come, so sit down and I'll explain what I can. It's the least I can do after you've done so much for me."

Ilya, although greatly disturbed by the content of the room, and greatly unsettled by the way he seemed to talk to her like she was a _part_ of the other girl, lowered herself to the floor and listened. The two of them listened to every word that man said, even though every sentence he completed sank their hearts farther in their chests.

Even though the truth he revealed, they both would have rather not have known.

* * *

What did he tell them? The world may never know. Or you might find out in the chapters to come, which seems a lot more likely. But seriously, this chapter took a turn towards horror this time. I hadn't meant to do that, but meh. One horrific scene doesn't hurt. Sometimes I wonder if I should write some more horror. I don't really have any ideas for the genre at the moment, but what little horror I've written before hasn't turned out half-bad. Oh, but I've already began formulating a story layout for my next fanfiction! I have a bad habit of doing that before I finish the one I'm working on. I'm thinking I'll write another Kuroshitsuji story, but what're your guys' thoughts on that?

Till then, Kisses from SnowyNeko! :3 MEOW!


	14. Chapter 14

So here's the deal. I'm actually going on vacation starting this afternoon, and I don't think I'll be posting any new updates until I get back. For your consolation, I'll let you know the vacation isn't even a week long. It's just that the new chapter is going to take a few more days than usual to come out. Probably. But in any case, it'll give me more time to write. As soon as I get back, I'll sit down and put up chapter 15.

Now that that's outta the way, let's get to the story.

* * *

Ilya had been returned to a room. It was different than last night's room, but she didn't care. When she was shut in, she had immediately went to the bed and laid face up. She was...shattered.

Thoughts...she had them….she had them, but she could no longer make sense of them. It was like Mr. Welton had taken all the substance she'd grown herself to be since meeting the Troupe, and ground it into a messy pulp. She couldn't recover.

And the worst part was that she knew every word of it had been true. As he'd spoken, the memories had awoken inside her to confirm it all. She wished she had never remembered.

She didn't hear the knock at the door. Whether she didn't hear it due to her distraction, or due to her lack of care, it was unclear, but she didn't even notice when the door opened and that man stepped into her room. Even when he'd sat on the edge of the bed she was strewn across, she didn't notice his presence until he spoke.

"I did warn you," Mr. Welton said, shaking his head regretfully. "But you wanted to know."

She had never told him that. It had been the other Ilya who'd urged it on, but she herself had never said a word about wanting to know. She was too out of it, though, to tell him this.

"Truly, you have my sympathy, Ilya. No matter how much I think about it, the story never becomes less tragic. But, I suppose, the past is the past. We must put it behind us and look to the future! Don't you think so, Ilya?" When she didn't respond, he set a comforting hand on her leg. "I know you must be sad, and I know it must have shocked you, but we must look past it. It's what he would have wanted.

"So let's talk about your plans for the future. Now that you know everything, what is it you want to do to move on?" This time when she stayed silent, he brightened. "If you have nothing in mind, why don't you stay here? See, the Ilya here has learned quite a lot since I found her. She used to be just as empty as you, but look at her now! You wouldn't be able to tell she was a mere husk only a year ago. Not only has she gained humanity, but she's got a job, and a place to live...I think it's a pretty good deal, don't you? So what do you say? I can set you up the same. It'll take a bit of training, but if the other Ilya makes such a fantastic assassin, I'm sure you will, too! And you shouldn't sweat the killing people part. I mean, it's not like you're human.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. But it's true, you know? So killing shouldn't be that big of a deal, right? And the business lets you get to know so many people! You met Mr. Handel, correct? Isn't he a pleasant man? Ilya met him when I lent her out to do a job for him. There are plenty more, too. A lot of job requests come from out of town, so the gig even allows you to travel and see the world! Come on, Ilya. Doesn't it sound fantastic?"

She wasn't even listening.

He took in her silence, and after a bit of thought, he asked, "What about that Luce fellow Ilya told me about? What is he to you?"

She blinked. Even though it wasn't his actual name, she knew Luce referred to Chrollo. She was listening, now, but other than that, she gave nothing. Mr. Welton had no idea that his words had gotten a response, so he just went on.

"We can invite him over, if you know where we can find him. Or we can just send Ilya out to fetch him. Either way, it might be nice to have a goodbye meal with him."

"Goodbye?"

He grinned at her first acknowledgement. "Yes, goodbye. You see, such a great deal has to come with a price, but breaking it off with someone is a small price to pay for everything I'm offering. Isn't it? So we'll invite him over, have you eat together, and we'll send him on his way. A nice, clean break."

"No…" Ilya sighed, still too shocked to get worked up. "No goodbyes."

His smile twitched. "You'd give up everything I'm offering you to stay in touch with that man? I think you should reconsider, Ilya."

"I won't."

"Hm. You must have imprinted on him." When, once again, she didn't reply, he went on, "Not much to be done about that. We'll just have to wait until you forget about him."

He stood without saying goodbye and left, the door clicking behind him. It took over an hour, her being in the state that she was, for her to mull over what he'd said and grasp its meaning. When she finally understood, she dashed from the bed and yanked on the door. She'd been right; he'd locked her in. He'd locked her in with the intent to keep her there. He meant to separate her from Chrollo!

Panic rising, she staggered away from the door and flew to the window. She was only on the second floor, but how did you open the window? No matter how much she studied it, no memories came to her aid. She'd never seen a window like this. Even back when she'd had a house, the windows weren't glass. They'd been wood shutters, because she'd liked the rustic feel.

She placed her palm against the glass. Could she break it? Surely she could if she hit it hard enough, but they'd hear it, wouldn't they? They'd know she was trying to escape. So what was she supposed to do, then?

Maybe she could wait until someone brought her food? But she didn't need to eat, so that might never happen! How long would it be until the door opened again? When it did, could she overpower whoever was there and make it out? And even then, she didn't know the way out of the house. She'd only ever been through the entrance once!

She was trapped! The more this sunk in, the tighter her chest felt. Trapped, enclosed, confined, it was all the same. She didn't like it. She hated it. She had to get out, but for the life of her she couldn't figure out how!

The sun set as she was contemplating. Hours passed, and she didn't move. She didn't even breathe as her mind raced to find any solution there was, but she couldn't come up with a foolproof plan no matter how much she thought. And the more her imaginary plans failed, the more riled up she grew, and the more riled up she grew, the more incoherent her thoughts became.

A tap at the window missed her notice, but when the tap came again, she startled. Whipping her head around, she saw a dark figure looming outside her window. Even without good lighting, though, she recognized him immediately. She stumbled to the window as he began unscrewing bolts that held the glass in its pane. When he was done, he mouthed for her to catch it. Although she didn't catch his meaning, she instinctively caught it anyway when he pushed the glass inwards and it came down on top of her.

Chrollo swung himself inside and lifted the glass carefully from her hands as not to cut himself. Then, he propped it against the wall and stuffed the small metal bits he'd removed into his pockets. It would have been quicker to use a glass cutter, or even just to break to window, but it was his policy never to leave evidence whenever he simply trespassed somewhere.

He hadn't even released the metal in his pocket before Ilya's arms were around him, a small whine slipping from her lips.

"Shh," he quieted her, patting her head. "We can't let them know I'm here."

"Let's go," Ilya pleaded in a whisper. "I don't want to stay."

"Let me look around, first."

"NO! I want out!"

"Shh." He gently pushed her off of him, searching her desperate expression. "Tell me what happened."

"N-Nothing, we just need to leave." Her first lie. Somehow, she had grown a surprising lot in the day they'd been apart.

"Your face tells me otherwise, and before I found you, I found...someone else, who looked like she was in shock."

"Did...you see her?" she asked, voice trembling. "T-The other...me?"

So the two of them had come face to face. "I did, and she looked as if the floor had fallen out from under her." He left out the part where he'd thought that she had been his Ilya, and she'd denied it and pointed him to this room. "So tell me, what happened?"

He sat her down on the bed and took a seat beside her. After a few seconds of deliberation, she spilled, "E….Everything. Everything happened. Chrollo, I remember. Not... everything...but a lot. As much as I'm going to remember."

"What did you remember?"

"My home. A little cottage by a lake. And a man. I can't remember his face, or his name, but now he's dead. Mr. Welton told me that. That man had a workshop in our house for work. He was a mannequin maker. A doll maker. And I remember the water. Chrollo…." She paused, her throat cinching in denial. In desperation not to admit it. "Chrollo, I'm not human. I'm...me and that Ilya...we're fakes. The real Ilya is dead."

The real Ilya was dead? "When did she die?"

"F...Four years ago. December. She fell through the ice on the lake."

"So you're a clone?"

"I'm a doll."

A...doll? Like Omokage made? But this Ilya had a will of her own, and not only that, there was two of them. But...it was actually starting to make sense. If the man she was talking about had been her lover, or something similar, and a dollmaker, it was likely he was the one who made the life sized dolls of her. And if she'd died, it was possible he'd grown obsessed. And if he'd died, and he'd purposely or accidentally infused his works with Nen, it was possible his Nen could have gotten stronger. But to have the result being living beings….that was unheard of. But what about,

"You have memories, though."

"Hers," she choked. "Not all of them, but some. Their hers."

Maybe...was it possible such a strong obsession could have pulled back bits of the Ilya that died? If so, then it seemed more plausible that the dolls were given life.

"How do you know all of this?" Chrollo inquired. "And are you sure it's all true?" Surely she hadn't just remembered, and clearly the other girl had just learned the same things.

"I know it's true. I remember it. And then that room...in the basement…"

"What room?"

"It's filled. With me. Incomplete me. And they're all alive! They can't move, they can't speak, but even the severed limbs are alive! Because he never put them together! He never completed them!"

"Then he only made you and the other one."

"N...No….I remember….there were more when I woke up. I don't know how many there were, I couldn't count back then. But what does it matter?" she laughed, unhinged. "It doesn't matter, right? I mean, whether it's me, or it's them, we're all fakes! None of us are Ilya! We're just a bunch of stupid dolls fooling ourselves! We're just-"

He pulled her head to his chest, cutting her off. Then it came, as he knew it would. She began to cry. Her tears flowed, her heart sputtered in distress, her lungs heaved with sobs. Doll or not, she was certainly human. She may not have started out that way, but she was alive. _Alive_. And as he held that living girl, he came to a decision.

If she wasn't actually Ilya, he would make it so that she was.

* * *

Okay, so there's quite a bit to talk about in this chapter. First of all, obviously, big reveal moment. Someone actually suspected that she'd drowned, specifically in a lake, so good job! You were right! She just didn't come back as a vampire. And concerning the name Omokage, if you don't know who that is, he was the number 4 in the phantom troupe that Hisoka replaced. He only ever shows up in one of the Hunter x Hunter movies, and yes, he made soulless Nen dolls. Lastly, the last line. I understand that it's vague, but as for what Chrollo meant by it, you're just gonna have to come to your own conclusion. It might also make more sense as you read the chapters to come. Now that that's all said, I'll see you guys when I'm back from vacation!

Till then, Kisses from SnowyNeko! :3 MEOW!


	15. Chapter 15

I'm back! Aaaand I feel like I just completely forgot whatever it was I wanted to say. Bleh, that's just the worst feeling. Oh well. I had a great time on that little vacation, if you wondering. The sushi was delicious. Of course I did other things, too, but that sushi was _really_ good. It had been awhile since I'd last eaten sushi. But yeah, cool vacation, awesome food, and now it's over. Back to reality, I guess. Reality sucks.

In light of that, I offer you the next chapter.

* * *

When he was sure that Ilya had calmed down, he assured her he'd come again soon to get her before standing up. Of course, she inquired as to why he was leaving her there at all, and he simply promised he had a plan. As for what it was, he didn't say. After all, there was one little detail, the first thing he wanted to do, that he didn't think it best for her to know. When he'd quieted her questions, he slipped out the window and fixed the glass back into place.

He stopped by the window he had first come to earlier in his search for Ilya, where the identical girl still sat unmoved since he'd last saw her. And, like she had the first time he tapped on the window, she got up and opened it.

"Were you not able to get in?" were the first words out of her mouth. She had pointed out to him last time, after informing him he'd actually gotten the wrong Ilya, that his Ilya probably wouldn't be able to open the window like she could, since she herself hadn't been able to do it until she was explicitly taught.

"I was," he replied, "but I have a few questions I'd like answered. May I come in?"

She stepped back and he swung himself lithely into the room. As he straightened his shirt, she returned to her armchair and slouched back into it, the same position as before. The only difference this time was that her eyes stayed locked onto him.

"First things first," Chrollo began. "Why are you helping us?"

"Don't know," she answered, monotone.

"Then next question. I was given a fair summary of what happened today, but would you care to fill in some blanks? Like who Mr. Welton is?"

"He is the one who found me," she gave without resistance. "He either taught me everything, or gave me a teacher to teach me. In return, I do his bidding."

"So he's also your employer."

"He's my master." Emotion finally found its way onto her face when her lips distorted in disgust. "And I am his doll."

He ignored this change and continued, "Could you give me the directions to the room I was told about?"

"You're avoiding using her name, aren't you?"

"Only because it might confuse you."

"Don't bother, then," she grimaced. "I don't care if you call her by that name. After all, I'm not Ilya."

"I'll take that into consideration."

"From the entrance on the first floor, go straight until it opens to a hallway on your right. The last door in the hallway leads to the basement, and from the bottom of the stairs it's the third door on your left."

"Thank you, but I'd like to ask one more time. Why are you helping us?"

"I told you, I don't know, but whatever you're planning," she lifted her head to fully meet his gaze, "if I'm ordered against you, I will obey."

"Of course." Chrollo smiled, sitting on the windowsill. "I expect nothing less from a puppet."

With that, he leaned out backwards until he was forced flip himself outside, his hands still grasping the windowsill. As he maneuvered himself to the ground, the window leading to the now nameless girl's room shut. With both feet planted, he brushed himself off and double checked the bandage around his head to be sure it hadn't shifted. When he was sure he was presentable, he knocked on the front door. It took a while before anyone answered. It was a maid who finally opened the door, the same old woman that had opened the door to both of the Ilyas before. Instead of shock this time, though, she was wearing an irritated grimace.

"Who are you, and how did you get in?"

Get in? Oh, she meant through the gate. It might be best if he ignore that question. Turning on his charm, he smiled pleasantly at her. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I go by the name Luce. I came to visit with Mr. Welton, if he's in."

"He's preparing to turn in for the night," she grumbled, unfazed by his friendly act. "Leave and try again tomorrow."

When she went to slam the door, he pushed his hand against it just hard enough to counteract the pressure she applied. Laughing sheepishly, he went on, "I really do apologize, but I happen to have urgent business with him. Could you please, at the very least, inform your master that I'm here?" Seeing her unmoved, he added, "If he tells me to leave, I'll go without a word, and I won't come bother you tomorrow, either."

Grumbling, she snapped, "Fine. You wait here."

So he waited. It wasn't long before she returned, trailing behind a dressy middle-aged gentleman who extended his hand in greeting. Chrollo shook it. "Mr. Welton, I assume?"

"That I am," the man confirmed, grinning. Even with his pleasant expression, though, his aura leaked vile intent. "And you must be Luce. Come in, come in! Sit with me for awhile. I think we have much to discuss!"

Chrollo readily accepted the invitation, and allowed himself to be lead to a comfortable parlor where the two of them sat down. The maid poured each of them a glass of wine as her boss ordered, then hurried to leave.

"I normally refrain from drinking so late at night, but on occasions like this, I make an exception for wine. Do you like wine, Mr. Luce?" Mr. Welton wondered, gently rolling the liquid in his glass.

"I am quite fond of it," he replied, mimicking the man's light tone. Then, taking a whiff of the drink, he added, "It seems like this is top quality, as well."

"What can I say? I do so enjoy pampering my guests. Perhaps, though," Mr. Welton started, setting down his untouched glass, "we should discuss your reason for coming?"

"I believe you have a girl under your hire," Chrollo ventured, sipping his wine. "One by the name of Ilya. An assassin, if I'm not mistaken."

A muscle under the man's eye twitched, but otherwise he gave no reaction. "You're well informed. Yes, what you say it true, but what of it?"

"I have reason to believe she stole something from me."

"Stole something? As you said, she is an assassin, not a thief."

"Often the two aren't so different."

"What is it you propose she stole?"

"I believe you know exactly what that is," Chrollo answered straightly. "And what I want to know is what you plan to do with it."

"My apologies," the man chuckled. "I haven't the faintest clue what you mean."

"Let me be clear. I'm not asking for you to tell me. This isn't a request."

Mr. Welton's laughter grew. "Confident, aren't we? Saying such a thing even when you know I have an assassin under my thumb."

"I'm glad it entertains you."

"It does indeed! Tell me, Luce. How is it you found this place? I might not have been able to find _you_ , and yet you ventured to come to my house all on your own. You must have heard my name from somewhere as well, to have come to associate it with whatever was stolen from you. Care to solve those mysteries for me? If you do, perhaps there might in fact be something I could tell you."

Oh, he could give him answers. Lying was something that came naturally to Chrollo. "Your name is well known throughout the town, Mr. Welton. Of course I heard your name. And I simply needed to ask to find this place. As for why I believe you have what was stolen from me...we can simply chock it up to my intuition. A friend of mine once told me my intuition was better than even a woman's." She had said it honestly, but Machi's voice had been bitter at the time. He remembered her words because there wasn't much that worked her up. That little moment of jealousy had been precious.

"Intuition, you say," Mr. Welton shook his head. "And how, may I ask, were you aware of Ilya? Surely you don't expect me to believe word of her was floating around town."

Smiling, Chrollo answered, "That, I think, I will keep to myself. All of us have a secret or two we never tell, don't we?"

Mr. Welton leaned back in contemplation, finally plucking his glass off the side table and drinking a bit. "I suppose I have one more question for you, Mr. Luce," he finally decided. "Even though you suspect me of hiding your stolen possession, you don't demand it back. Instead, you inquire as to what I want it for. Why is that?"

"Because," Chrollo said simply, "both of us know that the thing that was stolen has a few quirks that make her very valuable."

"Oh? And if you get this thing back, what do _you_ plan on doing with it?"

"Molding, nurturing, call it what you will. It just happens that she also has value suitable for the sort of job I have. If you successfully turned yours into an assassin, I believe I can successfully turn mine into a human." A human, and a spider. Both at once. A monster, and something so incredibly wonderful that belongs only to the Troupe. Yes, he thought that she was extremely valuable.

The man didn't deny anything this time. "A human, you say. Then you're aware it's not. Unfortunately, Luce, nothing that isn't human can be made human."

"Then can I assume you mean to turn my Ilya into another toy for you to use?"

"Hardly a toy. A tool. I never thought that puppet maker had much to him, but at the very least, the dolls he left behind have proven to be quite handy."

"I figured as much."

"You see, however," Mr. Welton continued, "you are a bit of a hindrance to me. That Ilya has imprinted on you, and that is going to be a pain to undo. I think it might be a little easier to do if you no longer existed."

Chrollo dropped the glass in his hand to catch the knife aimed for his chest, managing to catch the wine with his free hand in time to keep it from spilling. As the girl behind his chair attempted to pry her arm up out of his reach, he advised her, "You should try trading your daggers for a gun. If you'd fired one at me from this distance, it would've proved difficult for even me to dodge."

He released her wrist and she wrenched back before stabbing a second blade through the back of the chair. This time, though, Chrollo leapt to his feet to avoid the blow. Practically ignoring her, he continued to address the man. "Thank you for your time, but I'm afraid it's time for you to go."

"This is my house," the man began, standing to face him at eye level, "and I don't plan to leave it anytime soon. You are the one who should be taking his leave, Mr. Luce."

"Then feel free to haunt this house of yours for years after your death." Chrollo swallowed the last drop of wine. Then, smashing the cup of the glass to leave only a jagged glass stem, he stabbed the makeshift spear up through the neck and head of his victim. The girl behind him watched in still silence, her blade finally freed from the chair, as Mr. Welton dropped to the ground. Digging into his pocket, Chrollo crouched beside the jerking, dying man and held up a golden coin for his terrified, fading eyes to see.

"It isn't smart, Mr. Welton, to steal from the thief."

* * *

This is the chapter where we really get to see Chrollo in action, I'd say. What'd you think? He's by far one of my favorite characters in the entire anime, right up there with Killua and Hisoka and Meruem. Now that I think about it, those are all dudes, aren't they? So, which girl is my favorite? Hm...it either has to be Komugi, or Neferpitou. The thing is, Neferpitou's gender isn't ever confirmed, I don't think. She's one of those, but I've always thought of her as a girl. Anyway, I'm hungry. I'm gonna go ransack the fridge for food!

Till then, Kisses from SnowyNeko! :3 MEOW!


	16. Chapter 16

I'm going to get my hair cut today. For the longest time, ever since I got a bob in sixth grade, I've had an aversion to cutting my hair. I won't give you the exact numbers, but it's been a fair number of years since then. I did recently (as in months ago) donate a good portion of my hair, and I didn't go get it professionally fixed when I did. Needless to say, my hair needs to be cut. It's going to be a little strange after all this time. Maybe I'm more sentimental about my hair than I thought I was.

But anyway, onto the story.

* * *

Once Mr. Welton was dead, the girl who had just been trying to kill the spider froze, staring at the body. She didn't speak, she didn't blink, she didn't breathe. And Chrollo left her like that. A puppet without a puppet master had no purpose, after all. She couldn't do anything. That was why he was determined to raise Ilya from the label of doll. Using the faint feel of Ilya's aura, he found his way upstairs and, when he found her door locked, he broke the doorknob to forced his way in.

She practically leaped off the bed, scuttling over to him expectantly. As she had wanted, he motioned for her to follow him this time. He didn't need to tell her twice. She was out of that room as quick as a bunny, her fingers curled around the corner of his shirt for fear of him leaving again. He, of course, noticed, and let her cling. It may have been a sign of reliance, but it was different from the one the other girl had had on Mr. Welton. That girl had been attached to him because he had trained her to be. On the other hand, this Ilya had formed this attachment all on her own. The more she reached out for him, the more human she was in his eyes.

She didn't let go of him even as they descended down the stairs. Where he lead her wasn't the entrance, though. It was the parlor. Ilya stood silent in the doorway as she drank in the sight of the sprawled corpse, and her empty reflection standing over it.

Finally, she asked, "Why did you show me this…him dead?"

"It's not him I want to show you," he corrected, motioning towards the assassin. "It's her."

Reluctantly, she shifted her gaze towards the girl before them. The difference didn't need to be explained to her. She looked as if everything inside of her had been gutted out, leaving her hollow. The girl's eyes glazed forward, utterly empty. Before, she had been forceful, angry, alive, but now...all of that was gone.

"Why?" Ilya trembled.

Chrollo detached her hand from his shirt, stepping over to the girl. She didn't react under his touch when he brushed a strand of hair behind her shoulder. "This is what a doll is, Ilya. I wanted to show you what you were created as, what you were molded to be."

She looked away. "Stop it."

"You don't like it, do you? That this is what you are."

"I said stop it!"

"Kill it."

Her breath hitched, then her eyes flickered briefly in his direction. "W-What? She's like me, you know. Inhuman. Immortal."

Yes, he knew. He knew, but somehow, something had changed. He'd noticed it the second he felled the girl's master, the shift in her aura. As she'd watched Mr. Welton die, her Nen had changed. It was no longer the same as his Ilya's. It had become flat. It was as if, not her, but her aura, had died. Seeing this, he had a feeling that her Nen would no longer heal her, and if he was right…

He went to pry one of the knives out of the girl's hand, slightly surprised when the fingers around the handle readily moved to release it. He glanced up at the girl's face, but other than her fingers letting go, she hadn't so much as flinched. So he took the knife and held it out to Ilya, hilt pointed for her to take.

"I told you…" Ilya began, gazing at him uncertainly.

Hand still resting on the girl's shoulder, he implored her, "Trust me."

She did. Even with the flood of memories, even though she distrusted her own existence, she trusted Chrollo. She had to. If she didn't trust him, what was there in the world for her to trust? So, despite her reluctance, she took the knife in her grasp and wielded it. This wasn't a regular knife, though. It wasn't something used for cutting vegetables. No, this was a dagger made with the intent of killing, and she had no idea how to use it.

Seeing her somewhat clumsy handling of the blade, Chrollo simply advised, "The neck, the face, the heart. Hit any of them, and it doesn't matter how you held the knife. All that matters is that you cut deep."

"S-She'll just heal-"

"She won't."

"I've seen it! She's the same as me!"

"ILYA!" She startled at her name. When he had her attention, his voice returned to its normal calm. "Ilya, this is a doll. Look at it, then look at yourself. You are _not_ the same. Believe me, Ilya. _You_ are human. _This_ is a doll. Kill it, and prove that you are the human. If you're the one still standing with all is said and done, you're the real one. Do you understand?"

"Chrollo…."

"You are flesh and blood, Ilya. Alive. But it isn't right for there to be more than one, so get rid of her. After you kill this one, we'll hunt down the others. You said there were more, didn't you? Kill this one, then we'll kill the rest, until you're the only Ilya left, because _you're_ the real one. You're the real one because you can kill the impostors."

It was cruel. He knew what he was ordering her, what he was commanding her to do. He knew it, but he did it anyway. It was true that if she was left the only one, she would be left with the title 'real', but it was also true that she would have achieved it by trampling other versions of herself underfoot. She would become human by becoming a monster that preys on others. She would become a predator. A spider.

His words made sense to her, had dug their claws into her weak point. When she'd learned she was a mere copy, she had despaired. Frightened, she'd cried. What he was saying….was hope. Her hands shook at the idea, but she...she could be real. She could force her way to being real.

That selfish, primal desire is what drove her as she plunged the dagger into the chest of her twin.

Ilya wasn't sad when she stepped back. In fact, she felt...relieved. She'd done it. She'd stabbed that awful reflection, the one that haunted her, that reminded her she wasn't real. And then fear arose. Fear that it hadn't worked, that her reminder truly was immortal like her.

But, as Chrollo had suspected, the girl didn't heal. She coughed reflexively and blood spurted from her mouth. He finally lifted his hand from her shoulder when she collapsed. Neither one of them noticed the tear that had gathered in the corner of her eye.

"It...worked…" Ilya blinked, hand falling empty to her side.

He had been right. If his theory was correct, the man who had made his Ilya had loved her, and if he'd loved her, he'd have wanted her to be happy. Even if he had been obsessed with creating dolls in her likeness, he probably still felt that selfless love for her, and that would have infused into his Nen. His Nen became her Nen, and it could have fed off of the lingering aura the original Ilya could have left behind if she'd strongly yearned to live as she'd died. It was complicated, it was a stretch, but it was all he could come up with. If he was right, then if the copy lost the will to live, it would make sense that the Nen would stop healing them. If he infused his creations with Nen desiring her happiness, and the doll began to wish she were dead, wouldn't her aura act accordingly? Proof of this idea now lay dead before him.

"Mr. Welt-" The elderly maid froze in the doorway. Chrollo knelt, yanking the knife out of the girl as the woman stiffened to scream. When she did, he didn't mind. She had hardly even turned to run before he'd stabbed the blade into her spine. Of course, her shout had summoned the others in the house, so he went ahead and killed them as they came. When he was finished, the maid, a butler, and a chef laid dead on the floor along with the first two corpses. The wooden floor was beginning to grow hidden beneath the pooling blood.

When he was sure that he and Ilya were the only two auras left in the house, he wiped off the blood and pocketed the knife. Ilya watched from her place in the center of the room, cringing at the numerous bodies and what she'd just seen dawned on her. He'd killed them. All of them. All of them except for the one that looked exactly like her. That one, she had killed.

Remorse still evaded her, but she was undeniably disturbed. Simultaneously, however...she was surprisingly unbothered. Maybe it was Chrollo's influence over her, maybe it was the fact that wasn't actually human, but she was somehow able to accept the display of death before her.

"There's one more thing to do before we loot the place," Chrollo declared, snapping her eyes away from the bloody mess on the parlor floor. She didn't ask, but followed him obediently when he left the room. She recognized the house's entryway when they arrived at it, but he didn't open the door. Instead, he faced his back to it and walked straight. Then they turned right, and walked until they reached the door at the end. It was when he opened it to reveal a descending staircase that she realized where he was taking her. How he had learned where it was, she didn't know. It didn't matter. He was taking her back to that dreadful room, and that was what mattered. Swallowing her unease, she took a quaking step down to the first stair. Chrollo was there, though, waiting patiently in front of her as she mustered the willpower to take the second step. He didn't speak a word about her obvious reluctance, nor did his gaze show even a glimmer of impatience. He knew this was difficult, and he was willing to see her through it. It was that knowledge that allowed her to keep going, until they finally set foot at the bottom.

Her feet slowed to a stop a yard before they reached the room's door, though. She couldn't tear her eyes away from it, from the great wooden door standing between her and the room that seemed, somehow, flimsy to her.

Chrollo paused with his hand on the doorknob when he noticed this. Then, he twisted it and yanked open the door. Mr. Welton had forgotten to turn off the lights earlier that day, so there wasn't any darkness to hide the gruesome scene within. Chrollo took it in without much resistance, having been warned of the sight beforehand. He simply walked right in.

Ilya's eyes widened when he did, and before she could think of her actions, she had rushed over to the open doorway. Of course, she froze again as soon as the room's insides were visible to her, but she gulped and trained her eyes on Chrollo. She could handle it, just as long as she didn't focus on any of the...decor.

The room, you see, was unfinished. Mr. Welton had not had much of a use for the room before he'd discovered the living dolls, so it had gone without purpose until the doll parts had filled it. The floor was bare concrete, and the wooden beams that made up the walls stood visible. Piping, too, weaved its way around the edges of the room. Some of the pipes were clean, likely carrying water meant for upstairs, while others were bent out of shape and rusted. Mr. Welton had never cared to pay the money to remove them.

Chrollo sauntered over to one of those old, dilapidated pipes and proceeded to rip it from its place. Weighing it in his hand for a moment, he then pushed it into Ilya's grasp.

"Go wild."

He didn't explain, and she didn't need him to. Her fingers tightened around the rusty metal as her eyes finally made contact with the dismembered, living parts. Then, in a swell of rage, she stormed over to the heads lined up on the long, wooden table, and swung. And she swung again. Shaking with rage, with fear, with confusion, with a multitude of jumbled emotions she never could have even begun to give a name to, she continued to swing the heavy pipe until every limb in the room had been smashed into mush. And since none of them were complete, none of them had a will to live. None of them regenerated.

When she'd finished bashing the last remaining arm, she shouted in frustration and threw the pipe across the room. She then just stood in silence, heaving, tired from the emotional onslaught.

Chrollo crossed the pulp coating the floor to reach her. Although she didn't acknowledge his presence at first, he laced his fingers through hers and rested his chin gently atop her head, waiting for her to collect herself. As she did, she gradually leaned into him. Her nails that had been digging into his hands loosened their grip, turning soft, and she closed her eyes against his chest. And there they stood, amidst the bloody destruction that she had caused and Chrollo incited.

It was peaceful. It was an uneasy peace, but still, it was peaceful.

* * *

Well that happened. Your thoughts? I mean, this was kinda the climax, so... Well, this is your heads-up. The next chapter is the last. I always feel strange finishing a story, but I honestly barely remember the beginning of this one. I guess that's because Ilya's evolved so much. But yeah. I'll see you all next chapter!

Till then, Kisses from SnowyNeko!


	17. Chapter 17

Omigod it's here. The final chapter! dun, Dun DUN! Cue the dramatic music. Anyway, this has been quite the story! It was my first in third person, so I was definitely nervous, but it seems that you guys have loved it! EEEK! That makes me so happy! This has turned out to be one of my most successful stories, and that's all thanks to all of you lovely readers. That you all so much for reading! Ah, but I suppose we should get to it.

I present to you the final chapter, chapter seventeen!

* * *

When they left the house, they carried with them only the clothes on their back and a backpack Chrollo had found in one of the closets. They left in the early morning, using the last hour of darkness to shroud their leaving town. Since Chrollo was still set on heading East, East is where they went. After all, his fortune had claimed that someone was waiting for him. Sure had met Mr. Welton already, but his focus had been primarily Ilya, not him. So that meant there was still something out there for him if he continued East.

The two of them didn't talk as they went. Neither one had said a word since he had given her the order to destroy the doll parts in that room. Their silence continued even once they'd left the town premises, and stretched vast as they delved back into the seemingly endless woodlands that surrounded the town. Their path, too, continued, going on for hours. Ilya simply followed Chrollo as she always had. The only difference between this trek and the journey they'd undergone before arriving in town was that now Ilya had a mind, it seemed. She had a purpose.

As for how she planned to complete said purpose, that was easy. All she had to do was follow Chrollo. If she followed him, she'd be able to find the other dolls. She would find them, and she would destroy them. Immortality be damned. She _would_ put an end to them.

The sun had set again by the time they finally stopped. It was near a murky pond where they were, one rimmed with cattails and algae, but it was water all the same. As Chrollo dug into his backpack for some stolen container he could boil water in, Ilya found herself thankful for the filth of the pond. With it, she couldn't see her reflection.

Soon enough, Chrollo withdrew an expensive looking silver bowl from his backpack, and then set to work making a fire. Wanting to help, Ilya put herself to use collecting wood and dried leaves. Then, while he tried for a spark, she cleared away anything burnable around the makeshift fireplace's edges.

"Have you done this before?" Chrollo broke the silence. A tiny flame having started before him, he fanned it a bit before sitting back to let it burn.

"My house used to be warmed by fire," she confirmed, sitting down and drawing her legs to her chest. Resting her chin on her knees, she elaborated, "If I hadn't practiced making safe fires, I would've ended up burning down the cabin."

Chrollo absorbed this, grabbing a couple nearby sticks to begin making into a stand for the bowl. "I see." After this, he fell silent, and the crackling of the growing fire filled the chilled air. Then he asked, "So you remember your home."

"Mm…" She gazed thoughtfully at the fire. "I do...for the most part. I don't know where it is anymore."

"Would you want to find it?"

She lifted her head to look at him. "Would you take me if I did?"

"Maybe."

A smile tugging at her lips, she sighed, "No, I don't think I do. I remember a lot of it, but I think the parts that I don't remember would bother me." Like the bedrooms, or the attic, or the restrooms...all of those were places she couldn't recall. Admittedly, though, there were places she remembered that she longed to see again. The kitchen, for example. She and that man had always gone there to talk, and to argue, and to laugh, and she remembered the room in great detail. A wood burning stove, thick logs in the walls, and a shutter window for airing smoke out of the room. And homemade cooking supplies, mostly of wood, that she had made herself hung from a rack dangling from the ceiling.

There was also the workshop, which she remembered clearest of all. She knew, though, that the reason for that was because she'd actually seen it with her own eyes. It was the place she had been made, after all. It was a disturbing thought, but along with that memory she carried a fondness for the sweet little dolls that had been strewn around the workspace. She could vaguely recall to mind that blurry figure sitting on a tall stool, carving delicate faces with precise hands. She knew he wouldn't be there if she went, but the nostalgia made her want to return to that place nonetheless. She knew, though. She knew there were parts of the house that she didn't know, despite her memories of living there. She didn't want those gaps in her memory to gape any wider than they already did.

Finished with his little stand, Chrollo set the bowl atop it, filled with water, and set it all over the fire. They both let the noises of the night fill the space between them as the water heated up, and when it was done, Chrollo sipped the cooling liquid. When he offered some to her, she shook her head.

"I don't want it."

"Humans need to drink, Ilya."

She smiled wryly. "I know. That's why I don't want it. I don't need it, you know. Instead of faking need for it, I'd rather just pretend it's not there."

It didn't make much sense to Chrollo, but as long as it made sense to her... So he drank it all himself. Ilya almost had to laugh at herself. A few days ago, she wouldn't have been able to carry a conversation like this. She certainly wouldn't have been able to explain herself as she was now, even if the explanation had been rudimentary at best. It was so recent that she didn't know, that she had forgotten it all, but somehow it felt like an eternity ago.

"So," Chrollo began, setting the cooled bowl back into his backpack, "I have questions for you, now that you've remembered." When she was quiet, he went on. "Now that you know all that you do, do you plan to stay with me?"

"Yes."

"And what about the Phantom Troupe?"

She hadn't thought about it until he'd said it, but things connected now. Although she'd seen them simply as a group of people before, she was beginning to understand what they were. It helped, of course, that her memories included rumors of the spider. He was asking if she'd stay with them, the thieving, murderous Troupe. She would have been repulsed, she felt, if he had asked her this before she'd drowned. Now though….after everything...her answer had changed. Drastically.

"If you'll have me," she replied without emotion. "It's not like I have much to offer."

"You have a lot," he corrected her. "We're always in danger of dying, no matter how skilled we are. You, however, are not. If we can train you, you'll be an asset that will never need to worry about death, and that can make you powerful."

"Then I'll stay with you, then."

"What about the dollmaker," he asked next.

She didn't answer right away. Instead, she watched the fire's flickering light. Then she stood. Snatching a couple stones off the ground, she threw one out into the pond where it sank with a _plunk_. Trying again, she frowned, "I was in love with him."

From behind, Chrollo wondered, "Was he your husband?"

She threw another stone and growled when it sank again. "I don't know."

It was infuriating, but for some reason, that man seemed to be the vaguest thing of all. Even the emotions attached to him were blurry at best, and his entire existence was just fuzzy to her. She wished she could remember his face, or at least his name, but it wasn't there. No matter how hard she thought about it, she just didn't know.

"You can't remember?"

"Not at all," she grimaced, her stone finally skipping across the pond's surface. She dropped her hand to her side and let the rest of the stones fall to the ground. "I can't remember a single thing other than his existence. He's appeared in my dreams before, but even then it's all so vague! I know I loved him, but….it's like I'm just looking at the scene from behind that girl's eyes. _She_ was the one who loved him, it was _her_ he held so precious, and yet...it was _me_. I'm fucking jealous of myself!"

Chrollo didn't offer any sort of response, so she returned to her spot by the fire and plopped back down. It was only then that Chrollo said, "Then you have no attachments?"

"None."

He smiled when she answered, but she just took it in blankly. She had been getting worked up, but now she was back to being unreadable again. People couldn't, he supposed, change so drastically after so little time. That moment of open anger had been but a momentary glitch in her usual apathetic mood. Though, it was also true that she had been worked up quite a lot in the past twenty-four hours, so maybe that apathy was slowly fading away. If that were the case, then all the better for her.

"So," she interrupted Chrollo's thoughts, "what're we going to do now?" She'd like to go searching for those duplicates of herself, but they didn't have any leads as of yet. It'd be best if they could get back to the Troupe and fill them in. Then, they'd have fourteen pairs of eyes to look with.

"I was thinking," the boss began, digging into the backpack at his side, "that we'd begin with this."

Ilya eyed the pale, boxy machine he set before them. "What is it?"

"You've never seen a game console before?"

"Oh. No, I haven't, but you don't need to explain it."

"Seems like you remembered quite a bit," he commented. She ignored him, and he went on. "This particular console Mr. Welton had has a rare game in it that I'm interested in. I'd like to try it out, but it's not possible to without Nen."

Nen? He meant that wobbly stuff that surrounded people, right? What did that have to do with anything, and why… "Why bring that up? You have Nen, and so do I. What's the problem?"

"The problem is I can't use it," he explained. "Do you remember the chain user? To put it simply, he made it so I can't use Nen anymore. Everyone has Nen, but the difference is that I'm usually someone who can put it to use. You, oddly enough, can't use it either."

"I can't?"

"I don't think it's your Nen. I suspect it belongs to the dollmaker, and it's what's keeping you alive."

"So...I can't use it?"

He shook his head solemnly. "It's not yours to use. It simply serves its purpose and keeps you from dying. For the game, though, I have someone in mind to contact. I'll have him go in and see if he can find anything useful there."

His words confused her. "Go in?"

He nodded. "Yes. This is a game that you use Nen to enter into. It's something you play with your entire being. It's a Hunter's game, advertised as fully immersive, which is why Nen is required. And that is why neither one of us can play."

"So you're going to hire someone to play for you," she concluded. Chrollo simply nodded and added another stick to the fire. "But what are _we_ going to do before then? Go back to the others?"

He sighed, stretching out on his back and facing the night sky. "No, that's another thing I can't do right now. The chain user made it so I can't interact with anyone officially made a member of the Troupe. I can only talk with you right now because you haven't gotten the tattoo that signifies membership. At least, I suspect that's where the line is drawn. It could also simply be that I haven't officially announced your joining to the rest, yet."

"So…?"

He turned his head to face her, his eyes playfully alight with the fire's reflection. "So...we get a break. There aren't many opportunities in life to relax, especially not for someone in the business of crime. We have to take advantage of it."

She blinked, returning his stare. "...You're serious?"

"Yes."

She thought about it. When she had thought about it, she laid down as well, also gazing upwards at the sky. The stars, the flickering flame, his words, everything just sort of felt...surreal to her. It was nice. Maybe taking a break wouldn't be so bad.

Glancing over at Chrollo, she found him with his eyes closed. After a second of thinking, she inched her hand towards his. When he squeezed her hand in return, she closed her eyes as well. Yeah, relaxing sounded nice. She hadn't been self aware for long, but so much had happened while she had been, and it was draining. She could use some time off. And if she was with Chrollo during that time, his presence would help her remain sure of herself. He kept her sane, and he kept her safe.

As the fire began to die, withering away to glowing embers, the two of them drifted off into their dreams. Unbeknownst to each of them, both of them were smiling.

* * *

 **The End**

It's over! What a rush! Okay, so as promised, I'll reveal how I imagined Ilya. One of you said you imagined Ilya to be kinda like a dark haired Nyu. You know, Nyu from Elfen Lied. Another one of you actually sent me a link to a picture, which was super cool! It was awesome to be able actually see an image of how you imagined her! But anyway, how I've always seen Ilya. To be honest, it's been to me vague from the beginning, but I consistently imagined her with dark hair and bright, pale eyes. Her eyes, I think, were her most prominent feature. I ended up deciding she probably had light, reflective, silver eyes. You know, resembling the glass beauty of a doll's eyes. Ah, since it's the end I have so much to say, but I should really wrap this up before this post note turns into a chapter unto itself. In light of that, here's a shout out to Pri-Chan 1410, who's been here pretty much since the beginning and has commented a whopping 14 times! You go girl! (Or guy, who am I to judge?) But again, thank you all for reading, following, favoriting, and commenting. I promise, I appreciate it all. And with that, I wrap up this exceedingly long good-bye.

Til next time, Kisses from SnowyNeko! :3 MEOW!


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